


Coming Home

by ABrighterDarkness, velvetjinx



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Artist Steve Rogers, Avengers Family, Bucky Barnes & Sam Wilson Friendship, Bucky Barnes & Tony Stark Friendship, Bucky Barnes Feels, Bucky Barnes Has Cats, Bucky Barnes Has Issues, Bucky Barnes Has Nightmares, Bucky Barnes Has PTSD, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Bucky Barnes Recovering, Bucky Barnes Remembers, Canon Divergence - Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Canon-Typical Violence, Cats, Developing Relationship, Dogs, Domestic, Domestic Bliss, Domestic Fluff, Dreams and Nightmares, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Family, Family Feels, Family Fluff, Feelings, Fluff and Angst, Healing, Home, Home Improvement, Hurt/Comfort, Idiots in Love, Jealousy, Living Together, M/M, Mutual Pining, Natasha Romanov Feels, Natasha Romanov Is a Good Bro, Not Canon Compliant, Pining, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Protective Steve Rogers, Protectiveness, Recovery, Steve Rogers & Natasha Romanov Friendship, Steve Rogers & Sam Wilson Friendship, Steve Rogers & Tony Stark Friendship, Steve Rogers Feels, Steve Rogers Has Issues, Steve Rogers Has PTSD, Steve Rogers Needs a Hug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-24
Updated: 2020-11-14
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:01:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 41,484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27009262
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ABrighterDarkness/pseuds/ABrighterDarkness, https://archiveofourown.org/users/velvetjinx/pseuds/velvetjinx
Summary: After Insight, Steve catches up to Bucky who is attempting to regain his memories and himself.  After several months of watching Bucky struggle and spiral--and realizing that Steve, himself, has never quite managed to put a stop to his own spiraling mental health--Steve thinks that it’s time to make some changes to, hopefully, help both of them heal.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes & Sam Wilson, James "Bucky" Barnes & Steve Rogers, James "Bucky" Barnes & Tony Stark, James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers, Pepper Potts/Tony Stark, Steve Rogers & Avengers Team, Steve Rogers & Natasha Romanov, Steve Rogers & Sam Wilson, Steve Rogers & Tony Stark
Comments: 48
Kudos: 171
Collections: Not Another Stucky Big Bang 2020





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Written for (Not Another) Stucky Big Bang 2020!
> 
> Posting Schedule: Posting every Saturday and Sunday with the final chapter going live on 14 November.
> 
> A HUGE thank you to VelvetJinx for choosing to lend your beautifully creative talents to this story. The banner and artwork you've created are absolutely gorgeous! Thank you <3 <3
> 
> Another HUGE thank you to hazel_h for the amazing beta help! Your assistance in the creation of this fic has been invaluable, thank you <3 <3
> 
> I hope that you enjoy this fic that started off as an idea of recovery and building a home and turned into this warm ball of domestic fluff.

It had taken months after the Helicarriers fell into the river and Bucky left him unconscious on the banks of the Patomoc for Steve to finally catch up, to find the man that had been trained to be a ghost and bring him home. It had taken even longer to convince Bucky that it was safe to _come_ home. That he had a place where he could belong, where he could heal and recover with someone who truly cared and was capable of keeping them _both_ safe. 

That, no matter what he had done as the Winter Soldier, Steve didn’t hate him. But, then again, Steve realized very quickly that no one could hate James Buchanan Barnes the way he hated himself. Though Steve wouldn’t voice his concerns aloud, the severe self-hatred and recrimination that he bore witness to terrified him. The newly familiar weight of the pain and the dullness in Bucky’s eyes were something that would always haunt Steve’s memories.

There was a heavy cloud of grief and self-loathing that hovered over his friend even months after Steve had taken him in. If it wasn’t the nightmares clinging to him, refusing to allow even a single full night’s rest some weeks, then it was the suffocating grief of the blood on his hands. His fault or not, his hands were still painted red. That wasn’t something that was going to go away quickly, if ever. Even Steve’s earnest attempts at reassurances weren’t enough to wash away decades of death.

Steve did what he could but it seemed like Bucky was withdrawing further and further into himself. He understood. He remembered Bucky Barnes from his childhood. So very strong but so very soft. Bucky had been--and some part of him always would be--a gentle soul. Bucky had always hated when he had to pull Steve out of fights. He could, and would, fight if needed but Bucky was always far more content sprawling across one of their beds with borrowed books, enveloped in a peacefulness of learning that being friends with a perpetually angry Steve Rogers didn’t often offer. Steve never understood why Bucky stuck around, why he put up with Steve’s angry nature. 

That soft-heartedness that he had in their youth and as young adults wasn’t meant for war and it certainly wasn’t meant to withstand the nightmare that HYDRA had inflicted upon him. The level of Bucky’s grief told Steve that the soft heart was still there, buried yet wounded and bleeding for everything that he had been forced to do, acts he had been forced to commit, lives he had been forced to take. Even someone without the kind and gentle soul that Bucky Barnes possessed would be hard pressed to overcome something like that.

That didn’t mean that Steve was going to give up. That he would sit back and watch grief swallow his friend whole. Steve wasn’t exactly the sort to give up anyway but this was _Bucky._ He had known long before he was capable of understanding what that tight and warm feeling in his chest and his mind was trying to tell him that there was absolutely nothing he wouldn’t do for Bucky Barnes. Nothing was too hard, too much, too _anything_ when it was something Bucky needed or wanted from him.

Except giving up and walking away, perhaps. That was never an option. 

He knew that it wasn’t going to be easy. Bucky’s recovery was going to be a long road. For both of them, if Steve was honest. He probably wasn’t the best person to help Bucky piece himself back together considering that Steve still had a long way to go with working on himself. He sure as hell wasn’t about to step aside and let someone else take that role though. 

That was a thought though. How did a lost, broken man help put back together another lost and broken man? 

Steve spent several weeks considering that exact question and others that spiraled out from it. Finally coming to the understanding that, maybe, it was time he started sorting himself out too. While he would admit that the desire to do so was for Bucky’s benefit, in that he would be in a better place to help Bucky if he were actually in a better place himself. He was forced to acknowledge the glaring point: he wasn’t entirely okay either. Better than he had been those first horrible months after the ice but that really wasn’t saying much, not really. And he knew without having to even really think about it that he couldn’t rely on Bucky to help him like he might have in the past. 

If he really wanted to get better--for himself _and_ to have some hope of helping Bucky--Steve was going to have to learn how to help himself first.

He finally opened the laptop that Tony had given him months ago but hadn’t had the motivation or desire to bother learning how to use past the basics, too caught in his own mind and dark thoughts initially. Steve had figured out and quickly gotten adept at using the various technologies and equipment that was required on mission. That had been both daunting and, admittedly, exciting. The advancements in those technologies might very well have been one of his favorite things to learn in a professional capacity. 

In his off-time though? What was the point? What use was a computer and internet in the too-quiet of his small apartment when he could rarely settle his mind enough to doodle, let alone learn? 

But now he had both reason and motivation. Steve had to admit that he did feel a little guilty that he hadn’t found either much sooner. That he had let Tony’s kindness sit gathering dust. While he still preferred hardcopy books, especially for casual reading, Steve had to admit that the resources available online were pretty amazing. 

Between the reading he was able to find online, visits with Sam at the VA where he also occasionally sat in on meetings, and the variety of recommended resources that the VA was able to offer, Steve began to feel as though he was finally getting to a decent understanding of the long road ahead. Both for himself and for Bucky. He couldn’t say that reading and understanding made that road seem any less daunting or difficult. But even a rudimentary roadmap was a starting point. 

There were some ideas and suggestions that Steve disregarded almost without thought. Medications would be virtually useless for both of them given their physiologies and he couldn’t see Bucky being willing to sit through talk-therapy any time soon considering it was seemingly difficult for him to talk to anyone these days. There were, however, some things that he came across in his research that he thought might actually have a chance in helping both of them.

First was the small, yet significant, changes to the apartment that they lived in. He brought in smaller houseplants that would require tending and attention and would also require sunlight. That later meant that leaving the living room, and the apartment as a whole, darkened day in and day out was no longer an option. Steve didn’t mess with them much after placing them and Bucky never commented about them but he noticed that they were never dried out and the planters were turned just slightly every few days. 

After some consideration and more than a small amount of hesitation, Steve purchased several simple composition notebooks and a package of ballpoint pens. He had always found his own outlet through his--severely neglected--artwork but Bucky had always been stronger with the written word. He left the stack of notebooks and the package of pens on the counter beside one of the planters, attaching a sticky note containing only Bucky’s name. Steve hadn’t seen or heard Bucky leave the room that Steve had set up for him when he brought Bucky home but the notebooks disappeared and hadn’t shown up in the trash can. 

Steve counted it as a victory.

He attempted, a few times, to open the windows to air out the apartment. Steve quickly abandoned that idea when it became obvious that Bucky withdrew even further at the constant noise of voices, sirens and the constant chaos of living in a city. Noise that was even more overwhelmingly loud without the pane of glass to muffle the sound, to provide some small buffer.

Some of the resources that he had found online suggested that a reliable workout routine could be helpful--something Steve was pleased to learn that he had actually been doing _right_ all this time. Even if in a reckless overabundance. He hesitantly invited Bucky to join him on his morning runs. It pained him to realize that Bucky hadn’t left the apartment even once since Steve brought him home. Nearly always hidden away in what had once been Steve’s unused guest bedroom.

That hadn’t gone over well either. He didn’t ask again.

Some days it felt like failure was far more present than even the biggest of their small victories.

Still though, with almost painful slowness, Bucky’s presence in the apartment became more and more noticeable. First it was just dishes having moved from the cabinets to the sink, coated with various crumbs. Food packaging that turned up empty in the trash can. The sound of the washer or dryer running when Steve came home. A towel carefully folded next to his own, hung in the bathroom and, Steve noted with a slight flush, having to replace his soap and shampoo more frequently.

And then, Bucky slowly began making his presence known more overtly, though it was obvious it came with more than a little reluctance. Steve would come home from a run or a trip to the store to find Bucky seated at the counter or tucked into the corner of the couch, notebook open on the countertop or his lap and one of the ballpoint pens in his hand. Steve made a point to very clearly _not_ look at the notebook beyond recognizing its presence. 

He also stocked up on a few more notebooks and packages of pens the next time he went to the store. Steve was curious if Bucky stuck to the plain black ink or if he had used any of the different colored pens. He hadn’t been able to resist buying the multicolored pack, despite being entirely unsure if it was something that Bucky would like or appreciate like he might have once upon a time. 

He wouldn’t ask, it really wasn’t his business, but he was curious.

There were a couple nights, when his own nightmares were entirely too present--sometimes the ice and waking up alone in the new century, just as often though it was the war that revisited him--and Steve had abandoned his attempts at trying only to stumble into the kitchen or living room and find Bucky already there. They didn’t talk, not on those nights especially. Too on edge, too _raw._ But they would sit side by side or on opposite ends of the couch. Silent but watching light slowly fill the apartment. 

Once, he even fell back to sleep at some point, his head on Bucky’s shoulder. When he’d woken up some hours later, Bucky was still there. They exchanged a hesitant glance and Steve had been so sure that Bucky was going to disappear into his room again. But he hadn’t. They didn’t talk but did wind up spending the majority of the day on the couch together. Steve had turned on the rarely used television, volume kept low. Bucky only left once, for just a few moments, just long enough to grab one of the notebooks and pens--a purple one, Steve noted--that Steve had gotten him.

Progress.

Aside from the small changes, some big and some small, the idea for the first major leap that he made toward helping Bucky heal came to him while visiting Sam and sitting in on one of the meetings. Watching and hearing how the modern day veterans were dealing with the issues that Steve’s biological generation were expected to ignore and pretend didn’t actually exist was heartening and gave him hope. He listened attentively as they each spoke in turn but one of the veterans, in particular, caught his attention. Steve tilted his head consideringly.

That could work. Couldn’t it?

After the meeting, Steve had caught Sam by the sleeve and tugged him to the side. “Hey Sam,” Steve said distractedly. “I think--I think I have an idea. Something that I really think has the potential to work. To help.”

“Help you or help Barnes?” Sam asked pointedly.

“Both, actually,” Steve admitted after a brief hesitation.

“At least you’re finally owning up to the fact that you’re not as okay as you swore you were,” Sam said with a fond smile. “Alright, Rogers, spill. What’s this big idea of yours?”

“It’s actually a couple of ideas,” he sighed. “Long term type thing. Think you’re up to help me get things in place?”

“Suppose that depends,” Sam said, brows high in an expectant expression.

“On what?”

“On whether you’re actually going to tell me what’s going on in that head instead of being all vague and trying to make me guess,” Sam retorted.

Yeah, Steve supposed that would probably help.

* * *

A few weeks later, Steve juggled awkwardly as he attempted to reach out to open the front door of the apartment he shared with Bucky. With a quiet growl of frustration, he carefully shifted the wiggling contents in his arms to gain a better grip. Finally the door swung open, though not by his volition. 

Steve grinned brightly at Bucky on the other side of the door, “Hey Buck! Thanks.”

Bucky didn’t respond, his eyes latched warily onto Steve’s arms even as he shuffled a few steps back to allow Steve to enter the apartment. When he pushed the door closed again, Bucky turned on him and demanded flatly, “Steve, what is that?”

“It’s a puppy,” Steve smiled, shifting his arms until the small dog was held more securely, chuckling when the dog squirmed, eager to get down and explore.

“I know it’s a dog,” Bucky said with a very specific tone of patience. “What I don’t know is what the hell it’s doing here.”

“She’s yours. She’s nine weeks old and full Border Collie. She doesn’t have a name yet, I thought you might want to do that,” Steve answered after a moment of hesitation at the slightly chilled reaction so far. His words came out rushed and imploring rather than the carefully constructed argument he had painstakingly considered on the drive home. “Look, Buck, I did my research, okay. Border Collies are supposed to be really reliable. And she’s already started her training. I think… I thought it would help you to… you know, have her around.”

Bucky’s eyes stayed locked on the dog that had squirmed her way out of Steve’s arms and now was sniffing curiously around the apartment. His expression suddenly went flat and closed off and he turned away, making it virtually impossible to read any potential cues. “Take it back.”

“W-what?” Steve frowned. “Bucky--”

“Take the damned dog back, Steve,” Bucky insisted.

“Tell me _why,_ at least?” Steve questioned.

“I’m nothin’ but violence now,” he said, lifting his head to meet Steve’s eyes head on. Steve could see that dark cloud lingering in those grey eyes that, until so very recently, Steve had thought he would never see again. “You know that and I know that, Steve. I’m dangerous and unpredictable and things set me off and there’s no tellin’ how I’m gonna react. I wouldn’t wish that on any sort of creature. It’s...It’s bad enough that you have to see it but at least you’re strong enough to fight back if something does happen. You can protect yourself. The dog wouldn’t stand a chance.” Bucky sighed and dropped his gaze, shaking his head slowly. “Take her back.”

Steve fell quiet for a moment, considering his words carefully. He wanted to reach out, to pull Bucky into a hug and not let go until he was able to sooth away all of the hatred and self-loathing that soaked every word he spoke. He didn’t though. He wouldn’t either, no matter how much his hands itched for it. He still wasn’t entirely sure how Bucky would take the affection and the last thing he wanted was to have the decades old feelings that clung to his heart to be the cause of a setback. 

“What I know,” he said instead, “is that you’re a good man, Buck. There’s a hell of a lot more to you than violence even if you can’t see it just yet. And that’s okay. I-I think I’d be even more worried if you weren’t struggling with it all, honestly. I don’t have even half your memories and _I’m_ still struggling. You were forced, I walked in with my eyes wide open. What d’you think that says about me?” 

Steve grimaced. He hadn’t meant to be quite that honest. After clearing his throat he pushed forward. “But you don’t have to struggle alone. I can keep all three of us safe on your bad days, right?”

“Give it until the end of her training,” he suggested after a moment's pause, doing his best to keep the pleading out of his tone but almost positive that he was failing. “Get to know her, let her get to know you, and just give it a chance. If by the time she’s fully trained, you still don’t think she’s helping, I will personally see to it that she’s placed in a good home.”

Bucky visibly hesitated and Steve held his breath as he waited to see if his gamble would pay off. The Bucky of his youth had been an avid animal lover, often found feeding strays even though he, himself, hadn’t had a full meal in days. One of the few times that Steve could remember _Bucky_ being the one to initiate a fight was when a couple of boys had cornered a stray dog in an alley and were hurting it. Bucky hadn’t even hesitated before launching himself in the midst and trying to take on all three boys by himself. Steve had, obviously, _tried_ to help but he conveniently couldn’t remember if he was all that successful. It had been a long time ago, after all. 

Determined to stack the odds in his favor, he took a few steps forward until they were standing shoulder to shoulder and knelt down on the floor, whistling softly to get the puppy’s attention. Her floppy ears perked and her whole little body wagged excitedly as she scrambled across the wood floors to get to him. Mindful of his strength and her small body, Steve scooped her up into his arms and rose to his full height. With a playful smirk, he leaned in closer to Bucky, laughing outright when the pup wiggled and stretched until her tongue swiped eagerly against Bucky’s cheek and across the bridge of his nose. Bucky gave a rusty, startled huff of laughter and Steve’s heart melted at the sound.

Bucky stared at the dog with hesitation and unmistakable longing and Steve edged just slightly closer. “What do you say, Buck?” he asked softly. “Give her a chance?”

“Steve,” he said, pain and longing mixing in his voice in heartbreaking quantities. “We shouldn’t.” Even as he spoke, his right hand rose to stroke gently over the dog’s back.

The unexpected use of ‘we’ and the openness in Bucky’s expression drew Steve up short. Drawing up his own decades old longing and he swallowed thickly in an attempt to force it back down. “We really should,” he disagreed gently without heat. “Bucky, give her a chance. Please.”

“Manipulative punk,” Bucky muttered as Steve shifted the dog into his arms and Steve couldn’t help his grin in response.

“You gonna name her, Buck?” He asked casually.

“No,” Bucky answered after a moment, attention still fully snagged by the pup now cuddling curiously in his arms. “No. I don’t know. Maybe.”

“Well we can’t just keep calling her ‘dog’,” Steve pointed out.

“I don’t know how to name a dog, Steve,” Bucky said, sighing and shifting the puppy back onto the floor where she immediately flopped onto her side, draped over Bucky’s feet. “Hey, hey, hey, stop that,” Bucky yelped, pulling his feet away from sharp little teeth that were attempting to use his toes as a chew toy. 

“See,” Steve laughed. “If she had a name you’d be able to get her attention easier.”

Bucky shot him a glare but stared down at her with a contemplative expression. Steve clapped a hand on his shoulder and squeezed affectionately before moving towards the kitchen pantry to put away the various puppy-items he had purchased alongside the puppy herself. Dog food was dropped to the floor of the pantry, food and water dishes filled and set onto a mat protecting the wood flooring. An adjustable purple harness and matching leash went on one of the hooks by the door. 

He could feel Bucky’s attention on him as he moved through the apartment. It seemed as though there was something he wanted to say or questions that he wanted to ask. Steve knew better than to press though. Bucky needed to decide for himself that he wanted to talk otherwise he would get that horrible trapped, startled expression that Steve had come to loath. It might very well be one of the only things about Bucky Barnes that Steve would be perfectly happy to never have to witness again. 

When everything was finally put into the places that they belonged, Steve turned back only to duck his head to hide the smile that he couldn’t fight. Bucky had settled onto the floor, his back against the couch with the puppy sprawled in his lap. She wasn’t sleeping like Steve had initially thought, rather she was stretched out and happily soaking up the affectionate belly scratches that Bucky was giving. Steve hesitated for a moment before crossing the room slowly and taking a seat next to Bucky, just close enough that their shoulders brushed but careful not to crowd him. 

They sat like that for nearly an hour, much to Steve’s surprise. He even had the pleasure of hearing Bucky’s soft, rusty huff of laughter when the puppy yawned widely enough that it seemed to cause her whole little body to shake. Steve thought over his various thoughts and ideas that were slowly coming together and turning into reality, starting with the little ball of fur dozing in Bucky’s lap. Steve knew, without a doubt, that every bit of it would be more than worth it to hear those small but beautiful sounds from the man next to him again. 

Unfortunately, just as quickly as the tenderness peaked through, it was gone and Bucky’s expression darkened and closed off. He quickly nudged the dog from his own lap into Steve’s and silently retreated towards his bedroom. 

Steve sighed softly but didn’t let himself take the sudden change to heart. He knew that one good day--not even a full day--didn’t mean that everything was suddenly well. With another low sigh, he rose carefully to his feet, settling the puppy--they really needed something better than ‘the puppy’ to call the poor girl-- gently onto the couch and set about straightening up the apartment. 

That night, he walked ‘puppy’ and dished out some food into her bowl as he set about making a simple dinner for himself and Bucky, though there was no telling if Bucky would actually be eating. Steve couldn’t help the small smirk when ‘puppy’ started scratching and whining pitifully at Bucky’s closed bedroom door. After a moment of consideration, Steve walked quietly to the door and cracked it open. The dog’s nails clicked against the wood floor as her body wiggled excitedly. As soon as the door opened wide enough for her narrow nose to nudge it further she was darting into the room as quickly as her little paws could move her.

There was a muffled grunt and then a frustrated groan. “Asshole,” Bucky muttered, just loud enough for Steve to catch. Despite the harsh words, Steve noted with a grin, that he didn’t chase her back out of his room. When he awoke the next morning, Bucky’s door was still half open. Before he left for his morning run, Steve peeked into the room to find Bucky sprawled on his back, sleeping peacefully with the puppy curled between the bend of his elbow and his side. Steve smiled fondly and pulled the door most of the way closed and slipped out of the apartment to meet up with Sam. 

After that first morning, the puppy--which Bucky _still_ hadn’t given a name--was waiting impatiently by the front door when Steve readied himself to leave for his morning run, despite the fact that she curled up to sleep with Bucky every night. Every morning, Steve made certain to leave a note on the counter letting Bucky know that he’d taken the dog for a run. 

Taking her on his morning runs made Sam a lot happier too since Steve had to be mindful of his pace with a puppy in tow. Though, he did frequently hand off the leash to Sam for a few laps in order to burn through some of his own pent up energy. Steve also might have gotten a kick out of the way the little dog would manage to drag Sam a couple of steps in her eagerness to keep up with Steve each time he lapped them.

The realtor that Steve had been quietly working with over the past few weeks, called as he and ‘puppy’ were walking back to the apartment following a morning run four days after he had introduced her to Bucky to let him know that the sale and the relevant paperwork had gone through seamlessly. The tone of the woman’s voice told Steve that she hadn’t expected everything to go as smoothly as it had. Steve didn’t know if it was his name or a passing word from Tony and Pepper without his say so that moved the process but he wasn’t about to complain. He would have to remember to send them something nice either way. Pepper _had_ been the one to refer the realtor and the property to him, after all.

They had a home. It was _theirs._

Steve wasn’t quite sure what to label the buzzing eagerness in his mind. He wasn’t sure if he was fond of the term ‘giddy’ no matter how apt it might be. The dog seemed to pick up on his excitement--she probably did, everything he’d read since picking her up said that border collies tended to be exceptionally intelligent dogs--and all but bounced with pure puppy enthusiasm the entire way back to the apartment. 

As they walked, Steve mentally drafted a packing list. He didn’t really have a lot. The house that they would be moving into would be pretty bare until they managed to fill it with a mashup of personality.

He found that he liked that idea anyway so he didn’t bother feeling bad that he wouldn’t have much to fill the new home. Though, he was still equally terrified and excited about finally being able to confess to Bucky what he’d done. He hoped that it would go over well but he wanted to wait until he knew it was a sure thing. The last thing Steve wanted to do was potentially getting Bucky’s hopes up only for something to go wrong at the last minute. 

Bucky eyed him wearily when they came through the door, still buzzing on the excitement of the phone call. Steve couldn’t help the smile that automatically worked its way onto his face even as nerves began to rise. He hadn’t _quite_ figured out how he was going to explain his purchase to Bucky. He could safely say that it hadn’t been an impulse buy but he wasn’t sure if the time and research he had put in would actually make a difference. He hoped that it would be a _welcome_ surprise but it would undoubtedly still be a surprise and that alone could be hit or miss with Bucky Barnes.

“Steve,” Bucky said slowly, eyes narrowing suspiciously. Perhaps the tone and suspicion shouldn’t have been a cause for joy but Steve’s heart skipped anyway at the familiar reaction. There were a lot of traits that Bucky carried that were unfamiliar still, things that Steve was learning, things that changed as Bucky had changed. Shaped by the experiences that he had gone through. Every once in a while, though, something familiar would peek through. Steve loved learning the changes, learning Bucky all over again as disheartening as the very evident pain was on occasion. But he couldn’t deny that some of the old tells were heartwarming. “What did you do?”

“I--uh--I just got us set up to be able to go back to New York,” Steve said, nerves and excitement stumbling his words.

“Okay,” Bucky said slowly, his narrow-eyed expression not budging. He studied Steve intently for a moment before his eyes drifted down to where the puppy lay sprawled on the floor by his feet, gnawing happily on her favorite chew toy. “And how, exactly, is New York City any better than DC for a working dog?” 

“I didn’t say New York _City,_ ” Steve clarified. “I said we’re going back to New York.”

“I’m not followin’,” Bucky scowled. “Spit it out, Steve.”

“I might’ve kinda bought a house?” Steve blurted awkwardly.

“A house,” Bucky repeated flatly.

“Uh huh,” Steve nodded. “And land. Lots of land.”

“You _kinda_ bought a house with lots of land, somewhere in the great state of New York,” Bucky recapped with drawing sarcasm. “That’s a whole lotta details there, pal.”

Steve winced again and ducked his head, feeling his face flush hotly. “Ah, yeah. I-I found a place. Coupla hours outside the city. Several acres. Needs some work but I kinda thought that maybe that would be a good thing? I saw it a couple weeks ago and then when I came across her--Jesus, Buck, that dog needs a _name--_ but I kinda thought it was perfect. The-uh-the realtor called earlier. There’s a little bit of paperwork left but...yeah.”

Bucky was quiet for a long time, staring down at the dog and then glancing warily back up to Steve. “Why?” he asked, finally.

“Why did I get a house? Why New York? Or why the dog?”

“Yes,” Bucky said simply and Steve had to huff a small laugh in response before sobering and lowering himself onto the couch beside Bucky.

He leaned back against the couch, legs stretched out in front of him, crossed at the ankles, as he considered his words. “We grew up City boys but...I’m starting to think that it’s not doing either of us much good to stick to the city just because that’s what we knew. I’ve seen you, Buck. The way you get all wound up when the emergency vehicles fly past. And that’s _all hours._ Both here, Manhattan, Brooklyn. Doesn’t matter. Then there’s trying to actually feel _safe_ when you’re out and about--which you don’t do for that exact reason.”

Steve dropped his own attention to the sleeping dog, pulling his legs in to be able to lean down to stroke the pup’s head gently. “I saw the listing for the house--Pepper Potts has been forwarding me listings for months now, think it’s partially Nat’s doing--anyway, I saw the house and started the paperwork and then I found her and-and it just felt right. Working on the house gives you--both of us really--a project that’s creating and fixing instead of just breaking and destroying and fighting. There’s enough land there that we could figure out a garden, if we wanted. RememberMrs. Jones and that little kitchen garden that she had? We could get more animals, when you’re feelin’ up to it.”

“I just--,” he hesitated and sighed. “I just feel like this would be good. A step in the right direction for both of us.”

“It’s for both of us then?” Bucky asked with an odd note in his voice.

“Yeah, of course,” Steve nodded, frowning slightly. “Figured we could both do with being able to have a real home and some peace.” There was tension in Bucky’s frame that Steve hadn’t noticed until it eased at his words and Steve felt his frown deepen in concern. “Bucky, you didn’t think I was just gonna ship you off upstate by yourself, did you?”

“It’d be a hellava lot easier on you if you did,” Bucky shrugged and then wrinkled his nose in distaste. “Either that or send Wilson up to babysit me.”

“For one, I don’t exactly send Sam anywhere,” Steve pointed out with a confused frown. “Sam might be a lot of things but he’s not a babysitter for sure.” He winced slightly. “I did kinda give an open invitation, once we’re settled in, you know? If he wanted to get out of the city himself, stay a little while. With us. The house is big enough that it still wouldn’t be crowded. It has five bedrooms so it’s not like we would have to bunk up or anything.”

“ _Five--_ ,” Bucky sputtered. “Jesus Christ, Steve, what the hell do you think we need that many rooms for?”

“It’s only two extra if Sam has a regular one set aside and I figure Nat’ll swing by enough that it wouldn’t hurt to have one set up for her,” Steve shrugged. “Plus it’s got a really nice full basement that I figure we can turn into a gym. It’s a nice place, Buck, and because it needs some work done the price was really reasonable. I-I kinda picked it _because_ it needed the work.”

“That’s four. What about the other room? The other bedroom.” Bucky asked, tilting his head in question though he wore an all-too-familiar expression that said he already knew the answer to the question being asked.

Steve averted his gaze and shrugged again. “It’s got good lighting,” was all he said by way of explanation. He glanced up in time to see Bucky’s expression soften in understanding and a small, almost relieved, smile crossing his face.

“Good,” Bucky said firmly. 

“Yeah?” Steve asked, excitement flooding his veins. “So you’re okay with it? With moving?”

“ _Now_ he asks,” Bucky rolled his eyes fondly. “Yeah, Stevie. Sounds good. I think… I think it’s a good plan. What about your whole Avenging gig, though?”

“I’m still working on that,” Steve answered vaguely. Bucky just stared at him expectantly, clearly unwilling to be fobbed off by idle words. “I can’t just quit, I know that. Not-not entirely. Not while I’m still responsible for the shield and everything that goes with it. But…I thought maybe I’d see what life was like not being at Fury’s beck and call. Maybe just do runs for the big things, when they actually need me.”

“Thinkin’ about hangin’ up the shield?” Bucky asked quietly.

“Thinkin’ about it,” Steve admitted meeting Bucky’s eyes evenly. “The shield, the serum...Buck, it’s hard to see how it’s been worth it. It lost me nearly everything. Over and over again. It haunts me. It's part of me but I can’t trust it to not keep taking. Especially when I’m _just_ getting you back and starting to get on my feet”

“I get it,” Bucky answered softly. “You deserve a break, I think,” he added thoughtfully. After a moment of what looked to be deep thought he nodded firmly, “Let’s do it. Let’s go see your shiny new home, Stevie.”

“Our,” Steve corrected. When Bucky shot him a confused frown, Steve smiled and shook his head. “ _Our_ new home, Buck. Ours.”

“Suppose that includes the pigeon too, huh?” Bucky said with an intentionally dramatic sigh.

Steve snorted in amusement at the odd way Sam and Bucky seemed to interact. Their antagonistic dynamics reminded him a little of the way he and Tony got along. They were always friendlier when they were trading barbs that bordered on insulting, “Possibly at times, yes, that’ll mean Sam, too.”

“Several acres, you say?” Bucky asked at random.

“Thirty-four, actually,” Steve said sheepishly.

“Thirty---fucking hell, Steve, you can’t do shit halfway, can you?” he demanded rhetorically. “Fuck. Well, that’s good. Plenty of room to escape when Wilson makes me miss the Soldier.”

“He’s not _that_ bad, Buck,” Steve laughed.

“Says you,” Bucky scowled. “Just ‘cause you’re all taken by pretty brown eyes don’t mean we all are.”

“What?” Steve gaped, feeling his face heat in automatic response. “Buck, it’s not--he’s not…”

“Uh huh,” was all he said in response to Steve’s fumbling. “When do we leave?”

Steve blinked at the sudden subject change but switched tracks easily enough, “There’s just a little bit of paperwork left since I didn’t have to wait around for banks and loans and all of that stuff. Army back pay is good for something, at least. We should be able to have keys in hand in the next week, if the realtor is to be believed. Which, considering Ms. Potts referred her to me, I don’t have any reason not to trust her word.”

Bucky scoffed, “Even an average Joe realtor would be hard pressed to screw over Captain America’s home buying experience.”

“Jerk,” Steve retorted fondly. 

“Punk,” Bucky returned, fondness spreading across his face at their familiar pattern.

Over the following few weeks, packing went relatively smoothly and with little fanfare. Boxes were stacked and scattered throughout the apartment, though, as Steve had previously noted, there wasn’t a whole lot that needed to be packed. He had suggested that they leave behind the furniture and get new that would better compliment their new house but Bucky had disagreed.

“If it’s got some work that needs to be done then we should do that first,” he pointed out one night when they sprawled on opposite ends of the couch. Pizza boxes were stacked--all but one demolished between the pair of them--on the coffee table. Steve had pulled out the pictures on the listing of the house and they had begun discussing the work that would need to be done to it. 

“We should probably wait to get new stuff ‘til we know what the end picture’s gonna look like,” Bucky added thoughtfully.

Steve had been surprised at how eagerly Bucky had taken to the idea of doing the work on the house themselves as much as they could manage. Granted, that _had_ been his intent, to give Bucky a project that he could work on and focus on to help with everything going on in his mind. Though, he could admit that he was looking forward to it just as much. But Bucky had almost immediately begun pouring over the images, few as there were. Bucky had grabbed one of his empty notebooks and his purple pen--Steve only bought the purple pens anymore after noticing that Bucky seemed to favor them--and they began a list based on the house’s pictures and the details provided in the listing. Bucky had already filled a half-dozen pages with notes, ideas, and lists of supplies that they were likely going to need. Though he insisted most of it would have to wait until they actually saw what they were going to be working with.

A little hesitant and a lot nervous, Steve had grabbed a graphing notebook on his last store run. In the evenings, when they called an end to packing and Bucky pulled out his notebook, Steve had begun doing the same. While they talked and Bucky threw out his ideas, Steve drew them. It was surprisingly fun to put pencil to paper and turn Bucky’s thoughts and words into pictures. 

“At least let’s get you something new for your room,” Steve suggested, letting his pencil rest flat on the page that he had currently been working on.

“Why?” Bucky asked, puzzled. “What I got now works just fine.”

“Because I want you to have something that’s yours,” Steve answered slowly. “Because you deserve to have your space be more than just ‘fine’ or a glorified guest room that you happen to sleep in.”

Bucky blinked in surprise, staring at him for a long moment without speaking, “You do the same then.” Steve made to argue and Bucky silenced him with a glare. “I know that shit in yours is the stuff SHIELD stuck you with after you got outta the ice. You’re a guest in this apartment as much as I am with as little as you’ve personalized it. You want me to get all new for the house? Fine. But you’re gonna do the same.”

“I guess we need to hit some furniture stores,” Steve said by way of agreement after a long moment of silence. He snatched his laptop from Bucky’s hands and quickly pulled up a web search for bedroom furniture. Bucky shifted closer on the couch to look over his shoulder and Steve adjusted as well until they pressed close together along one side and the computer was settled between them. They didn't get much more packing done that night but sitting side by side on the couch with Bucky discussing new furniture--and making fun of some of the more ridiculous options they had come across--was more than worth the time spent. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Hey Buck,” Steve said quietly after a brief moment of enjoying the casual affection.
> 
> “Yeah?” Bucky replied, tilting his head in question.
> 
> “We’re home.” he grinned.

It turned out, moving with a young puppy in tow was a lesson in patience that Steve hadn’t been prepared for. The third time he saw a tail and a wiggling backside sticking out of a box, Steve dropped his head back with a frustrated groan. Bucky glanced up from his own box curiously and rolled his eyes.

“Queenie,” he demanded firmly. The dog’s wiggling froze for a moment and the pup was squirming again, though this time to get out of the box. Her nails clicked on the hardwood as soon as her paws touched, scrambling across the floor until she was looking up at Bucky adoringly. “Go watch,” Bucky instructed after scratching behind her ears fondly. She huffed a puppy sigh but tottered off to find her favorite stuffed toy--a rabbit that Steve had picked up one day on a whim--and hopped up onto the couch, settling down almost immediately, eyes still locked on Bucky. “Good girl, Queenie.”

Steve was astounded by the change over the course of a matter of days. Despite his earlier reluctance, Bucky had clearly taken to the dog-- _ Queenie,  _ apparently--far quicker than Steve had anticipated. He had clearly been working with her over that short week if she was learning and following his commands so concisely. 

Steve hesitated. He really wanted to say something, to acknowledge the change but he didn’t want to end up pushing Bucky back several obvious steps of adjustment by saying the wrong thing. After a moment of consideration, he settled on a hesitant, “Queenie, huh?”

“Well yeah,” Bucky said, as though it was obvious and Steve hadn’t been waiting for him to name the dog. “Look at her, all regal and shit.” Steve bit back a fond smile and ducked his head back to his task. 

A few nights later, they were on the road headed north with the hopes that late night driving would mean less traffic. Ideally, the drive should have only taken roughly five hours. But if there was one thing Steve had learned since waking up in the 21st century, it was that drive times never matched up with the ‘ideal’. They ended up on the road for nearly twelve hours, with nearly a dozen pit stops along the way for two on-edge supersoldiers and one hyperactive pup, by the time they rolled up to the house. Steve and Bucky were both tense, stressed, and utterly drained and took a long moment after Bucky turned off the ignition to just sit in silence.

The silence didn’t last. Queenie began whining excitedly, nudging them with her cold nose. Steve couldn’t deny that he was nervous about presenting the house to Bucky. It was supposed to be their home but...what if he had chosen wrong? What if he didn’t like it as much, didn’t see the potential, as Steve had?

Steve cleared his throat awkwardly and flashed a grin in Bucky’s direction, “Looks like we’re home.”

“Looks like,” Bucky agreed thoughtfully, staring through the windshield at the house. After another long moment, they climbed out of the car, Bucky pausing to pull the back door open for Queenie to hop out. Steve led the way to the house, unlocking the door and stepping inside before moving to the side to let Bucky take point. 

He hadn’t exaggerated. Structurally, the house was sound but it needed a lot of work and it wasn’t the prettiest thing right off the bat but it was large and open with a fireplace and pretty views from the many windows. The wood floors would definitely need to be sanded down and refinished and, despite the views, the windows would need to be replaced before winter. The appliances and lighting fixtures, few that there were, that came with the house were supposedly ‘outdated’. He was sure they would find more and more to add to their current list and make their own as they started digging into the renovation further.

Steve watched as Bucky headed towards the stairs and disappeared to the upper level with Queenie hot on his heels. He dropped his keys on the awkwardly yellow counters and wrinkled his nose at the cabinets with an orange-ish stain--those would  _ definitely _ have to go--before digging his phone from his pocket. He quickly shot off a text to Sam, letting him know that they had made it safely. He smiled when Sam responded almost immediately. 

Steve set his phone down on the counter when he heard Bucky’s quiet footsteps coming back down the stairs and took a few strides to meet him halfway and then followed him to the large picture window in what would be the living room. Bucky didn’t say anything for several long moments and his expression didn’t seem to give anything away that Steve could read. 

Finally, he shot Steve a sideways glance and a small smile. “You did good, Stevie.”

“Yeah?” He asked tentatively, relief starting to flood his body at the simple statement.

“Yeah,” Bucky nodded. He huffed a small, disbelieving laugh and shook his head slowly. At Steve’s questioning glance, Bucky shrugged, “I like it. Didn’t think I was going to but...you did good. It’s going to be a lot of work but it’s good.”

Without thought, Steve grinned and looped his arm around Bucky’s shoulders, tugging him into a side hug. Bucky’s eyes widened slightly in surprise for a moment before he relaxed into the contact and slipped his arm--his  _ left _ arm, even--around Steve’s waist and returned the hug.

“Hey Buck,” Steve said quietly after a brief moment of enjoying the casual affection.

“Yeah?” Bucky replied, tilting his head in question.

“We’re  _ home.” _ he grinned.

* * *

Two months after they had officially moved into the new house, they had gotten settled and finished outlining their heavy to-do list and gotten stocked up on the necessary supplies. While they hadn’t gotten started as quickly as Steve had hoped, the house’s renovation was in full swing. 

Bucky had opted to start with the eyesore of a kitchen first and had taken far too much pleasure in tearing out those awful orange cabinets. After the counters and cabinets, he and Steve had torn out the old vinyl from the floor and the weird floral wallpaper was stripped from the walls--they had both amusedly agreed that they were somewhat grateful to have missed that particular trend.

After several back and forth debates, the wall separating the kitchen from what was meant to be the dining room was knocked out as well.  _ That _ had been a tricky endeavor but they had managed to get rid of it relatively painlessly and well worth it in the end for the sudden openness of the space. 

Really, it hadn’t taken long for the kitchen to be stripped down to bare bones. Just a matter of hours for two supersoldiers with strength and determination to spare. They had taken care to remove the old counters and cabinets since Steve had read of a place-- Bucky hadn’t asked exactly where--that would reuse the cabinets for people that needed them. They weren’t exactly bad. There wasn’t anything wrong with them aside from the fact that neither Bucky nor Steve particularly liked them. He was sure that there was someone that could make use of them. So when Steve had mentioned it as an option, Bucky had no problems with helping to carefully disassemble them and haul them outside--protected by tarps--so that they could take them back into the city at some point.

It might have taken considerably less time had Steve thought to turn off the water  _ before  _ trying to take the old sink apart. While the look of utter shock on the man’s face when he had been reminded by way of surprise shower had been one that Bucky was certain he wasn’t about to forget--he wasn’t sure when the last time he had laughed  _ that _ hard had been --the resulting mess wasn’t something he particularly cared to repeat. 

It had taken considerably longer, and a fair amount of squabbles, to get it put back together. But they managed. Eventually. Despite that, Bucky found himself pleased with the end results and exceedingly grateful that they both had accelerated healing. 

Bucky snagged a bottle of water out of the new refrigerator, twisting the top off and taking a deep drink as he took in the almost-finished kitchen. Steve hadn’t particularly cared for the refrigerator that they ended up getting. It was sleek, stainless steel, double doors with an ice and water dispenser on the outside. And it was far, far larger than either of them were used to, likely bordering on excessive. Bucky had been tempted to fold, give in and let them pick out something a little more reasonable. But the way that Steve’s expression twisted--eyes weary and nose crinkling--was far too endearingly amusing and Bucky had insisted. 

As it turned out, it was a smart move to have appliances that bordered on excessive in the kitchen when the house was home to two supersoldiers with appetites to match. Bucky didn’t think that either of them would ever fully get used to the variety and availability of food. Having to sit back and watch Steve go hungry, feeling it himself, was something that Bucky was never going to have to deal with again. He couldn’t be more grateful if he tried.

Steve had wanted to go with white cabinets but Bucky had, fortunately, been able to convince him that was a terrible idea. Had he not seen the sheer amount of dirt and mud that Steve and Queenie tended to track into the house? They had settled for a slate grey. Steve had taken one look at the color that Bucky had picked out and had given Bucky an intense, searching look that Bucky still didn’t know how to interpret. Along with the paint and cabinets, they settled on black marble countertops, and sleek stainless steel appliances to go along with the refrigerator. 

The cabinets went all the way to the ceiling now rather than the weird gap that Bucky wasn’t sure the reason for aside from collecting a disgusting amount of dust.

Steve, being the more artistic of the pair, had taken over the painting and the tiled backsplash. He had opted for a pattern of the same light greyish blue, black and white tiles that turned out surprisingly pretty. While Steve had been chipping away at that, it had taken Bucky over a week to figure out how to install the track lighting, but he had done it and managed to avoid getting shocked even once. 

It was only belatedly that he thought that perhaps he wasn’t the best one to be playing with electricity, all things considered. No wonder Steve eyed him warily the entire time.

All that was left was to sand down and reseal the wood flooring, which had been a relief to find in mostly decent condition underneath the weird vinyl stuff that had been glued down on top of it. Bucky figured that he would have to wait until he did all the flooring on the main level. It didn’t make much sense to just do it room-by-room. Not when they were still tracking dirt, dust and heavy supplies through the house. 

The downstairs bathroom had gotten similar treatment with far more difficulty. It had been a small cubby-hole of a room that both men would have undoubtedly struggled to use. Both due to their size and the excessively confined nature of the small room. In the end, they had sacrificed the small coat closet just beside the bathroom to give just a bit more space. Fresh paint and new tile went a long way in making the space a little less claustrophobic. At least once the bathroom was finished they were less likely to smack themselves in the head with the door just trying to move around it.

Bucky turned on his heel, shifting his attention from the kitchen and the finished bathroom door to take in the open space that was the living and dining rooms. Neither should really take all that much work, he didn’t think. He would probably need to replace a few sheets of drywall and a couple coats of paint. The floors definitely needed to be sanded down but that was true with the entire main level of the house. The biggest challenges would be the fireplace--it seemed like half of the bricks were loose or cracked and who knew when the last time the chimney had been checked--and the lighting. The living room had absolutely no overhead lighting or even so much as a ceiling fan and not nearly enough electrical outlets to compensate. It did have a sliding door on the far end but that would likely have to be replaced when they did the windows. Steve had told him that the new windows should arrive within the week, so that was one task that could be checked off.

The checklist. That single notebook, now dirty and paint-stained, that was half-filled with thoughts, ideas, lists, and whatever else they thought belonged there. All dedicated to this house and working on turning it into a home. Their home. A house that Steve had bought to get them both out of the city. That needed all of the determined--and sometimes distracted--care that two broken down, haunted supersoldiers were capable of giving. 

Bucky still sometimes felt as though he was stuck in a place of suspended disbelief that this, all of it, was actually real. Steve had not only come after him and offered a hand out of the living nightmare that had been Bucky’s life but he did all of this too. Because he thought it would help and he thought that Bucky was worth it. Bucky wasn’t really sure that he was but he was trying.

He was pulled from his thoughts by the front door opening and the sound of nails clicking against the wood floor. The clicks were much slower than Queenie’s usual, Steve must have really put her through the paces on their run. Sure enough, Queenie rounded the corner, pink tongue lolling and panting heavily as she made her way to Bucky in unusually slow strides, tail wagging tiredly. Bucky huffed a small, fond laugh at the poor dog’s expense. 

Bucky met Steve’s eyes as he came into view just behind Queenie for only a brief moment before forcing himself to kneel as casually as he could manage next to the dog at his feet. He kept his hands busy, stroking gently over Queenie’s soft fur in order to maintain some sense of control of his eyes that so badly itched to wander over the view he was unintentionally being treated to. 

It had been a challenge that Bucky hadn’t anticipated, living with Steve again. It hadn’t helped that the longer he stayed, the more seamlessly old memories seemed to click into place. Especially, it seemed, the ones that involved the years spent with that very same man. Which Bucky supposed was fair considering that the vast majority of his memories before the war and before the train had always circulated around Steve’s presence anyway. But lately, they left Bucky feeling a sense of longing that he didn’t know how to handle, what to do with. Feelings that he couldn’t quite place whether they had always been there, hidden under his fractured mind, or if they were entirely new. Or if it even mattered.

And of course, Steve had to make the struggle that much more difficult by just being Steve. But if his memory served correctly, Steve had always taken pleasure out of being difficult. 

“Looks like you wore her out,” Bucky said as he stroked his hand through Queenie’s fur, darting a glance back up to Steve. 

Steve dug through the refrigerator and nudged the door closed again, opening the water bottle he had retrieved. He bobbed his head slightly in agreement as he took a deep drink. Bucky rose from the floor, snatching Queenie’s water dish as he went and headed to the sink to rinse and refill it. He carefully lowered the full bowl back to the floor at his feet, patting Queenie’s side when she immediately set to lapping at the contents. 

“Yeah, it was a pretty good run,” Steve finally said, tossing the empty bottle into the blue recycle bin a few feet away. “She’s getting fast,” he commented, leaning back against the counter with his hands curling around the countertop on either side of his hips. “Turned the run into a mix up of tag and hide and seek. I think she had fun with it.”

Bucky nodded, crossing his arms in front of him and leaning back against the wall. “Looks like she gave you a pretty good run for your money.” He smirked, nodding indicatively at Steve. His face was still damp and flushed and he was only just starting to breathe evenly again, the plain grey too-small shirt he had put on that morning was sweat-soaked and covered in mud and grass stains. His shorts weren’t in much better shape. Bucky could see bits of grass and leaves clinging to Steve’s hair and the mud streaks on the exposed skin of his face, neck and arms. The sight almost made Bucky regret not joining them that morning when Steve had offered.

“She did,” Steve agreed with a bright affectionate grin that forced Bucky to avert his eyes to the dog in question. That affection was for Bucky’s dog. The affection that was usually directed at  _ Bucky _ was different, not quite as intense for starters. And that was perfectly okay, Steve was doing more than enough as it was. Steve moved suddenly pulling Bucky’s attention back upwards. He turned around until his back was facing Bucky and Bucky tried to bite back a snort of amusement when he saw the multiple sets of muddy paw prints all over the back of his shirt and shorts. 

“Queenie knock you on your face, Stevie?” He teased.

Steve's face flushed slightly darker and he shrugged, “She’s a smart pup. She picked up on the game pretty quickly and managed to trip me up a couple of times. And apparently wanted to make sure that I knew it.”

Bucky shook his head fondly, shifting closer enough to ruffle Steve’s hair with a grin and set to preparing breakfast.

* * *

Bucky had been working on the living and dining rooms for a few weeks by the time he finally got to fixing the fireplace. He ended up pulling all of the old brick and replacing the whole thing piece by piece. Steve had hired someone to come look at the chimney itself, not wanting to risk a house fire with them doing that particular part themselves. Parts of it were rusted out and needed to be replaced, which had been a challenge and a half. Once that had been repaired and necessary pieces replaced, Bucky was able to get started on the actual brickwork itself.

He was halfway through setting the new bricks when Steve’s familiar footsteps approached from behind him. Bucky glanced up half-heartedly and nodded in greeting. “This is gonna take me a couple days but I think it’s coming together pretty good,” he said distractedly as he carefully set another brick into place.

“Yeah it looks great, Buck,” Steve said with a smile. Bucky’s attention caught slightly on that crooked grin before dropping to the balled up blanket in the man’s arms. His brows furrowed when the blanket squeaked. Curiously, he set his tools down on the floor and snatched up a rag to try to clean his hands off as best he could and got to his feet.

“What’dya got there, Stevie?” He asked taking the few steps to close the gap between them. 

Steve flashed a sheepish, guilty grin and loosened the tangle of blankets--Bucky realized belatedly that it was not a blanket but the warm flannel that Steve had left wearing that morning--until two tiny heads peeked out, squeaking piteously. “I found them when I was in the City to see Tony this morning. I went to that bagel shop you liked--they’re in the kitchen, by the way--and I heard them in the alley next to it.”

“Steve,” Bucky sighed in exasperated fondness. For all that Steve liked to point out that Bucky was an animal lover, Steve was certainly no better. “We’re already training a puppy and doing a full renovation on a new house.”

“We can’t just throw them back out, Buck.” Steve frowned down at the tiny kittens, one solid black and the other a grey that Bucky thought was usually called blue, in his arms. “They’re too young to survive it.”

“Fine,” Bucky said with another sigh. “Fine but  _ you _ are doing all the litter box shit.”

Steve’s smile brightened again and he nodded in agreement immediately, “of course.” 

Bucky just rolled his eyes and whistled lowly for Queenie who came pattering into the room, ears perked curiously. Steve knelt down as the dog approached, sniffing at the bundle eagerly. Her tail wagged, slowly at first when her nose nudged the first and then the second kitten and then she whined excitedly, nudging the kittens a little more firmly and swiping the tiny faces with her tongue.

“I think Queenie approves,” Steve grinned up at him and Bucky could only shake his head fondly, his heart twisting something awful in his chest. 

“Yeah, yeah, I know when I’m outnumbered punk,” Bucky snorted, before he could stop himself his metal hand reached out and ruffled Steve’s hair affectionately. Steve’s smile shifted from smug to fond and he caught Bucky’s hand and squeezed, seemingly not bothered at all by the cold, hard metal in his grip. 

Steve only smiled that same fond smile later when he found Bucky laid out on the couch dozing with the two tiny kittens curled on his chest and Queenie draped over his legs. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Until next week! Have a good one!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You’re not either, you know,” Steve pointed out quietly after a few minutes of thoughtful silence.
> 
> “I’m not what?” Bucky asked.
> 
> “A burden,” Steve said simply.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's another Saturday and another chapter of the Not Another Stucky Big Bang fic :D 
> 
> Happy Halloween to those that celebrate! <3

It was one of the good days, or better days at least. Nightmares had been scarce the night before and, for the moment, things seemed to feel a little less heavy. Bucky found himself sitting on the opposite end of the couch from Steve with Queenie sprawled across the cushions between them rather than held up in his room or walking the property just to be alone. Steve was settled back into his corner of the couch with a book in his hands, his legs stretched out in front of him crossed at the ankles with his bare feet propped on the coffee table.

It was comfortable in a way that Bucky had only just begun to realize he could actually start to enjoy. The silences didn’t feel suffocating. His mind wasn’t immediately screaming at him that he was making things harder on Steve. The long past orders to kill Captain America by any means necessary no longer echoed through his mind--though they did still frequently feature in his dreams.

Their conversational abilities had improved as well, since moving into the new house and putting their own hands to work at making it theirs. It wasn’t always  _ easy _ between them, not the way it had been when they were boys and had no real past to worry about. But it was  _ better. _

Bucky had been reluctant initially when Steve had told him about the house. His first instinct during that initial conversation had been to run, disappear. To ease some of the obvious burden that he was. If he was honest though, despite his reluctance, he had  _ wanted. _ He wanted a home, a little bit of peace that he knew wasn’t entirely his to have, after everything. Bucky had wanted to believe that it was a good thing. That Steve was doing these things--Queenie and the House and everything else--because he  _ wanted  _ to, not because he felt an obligation to the ghost of a man from his past.

The longer they were there at the house, the more they put into it and the more they settled, Bucky began to see the perpetual tension in the lines of Steve’s shoulder and his jaw began to ease. And the more that tension eased, the more of  _ Steve _ he seemed to be able to see. Not the hollowed out shell of a man that seemed to have lived in his place while they were in the apartment. Not the man who flinched at shadows while pretending that he was better than fine. Smiling that smile that Bucky wasn’t sure how no one else seemed to realize was fake. 

Or maybe they did. 

Despite Bucky’s admitted discomfort around the rest of the Avengers team, he could easily acknowledge that every one of them seemed to make a point to reach out to Steve in their own ways. To try to give him enough anchor points in the modern world to provide him some sense of a tether.

And they all, Bucky included, got to witness the man coming back to life in a way being pulled from the ice hadn’t done. Or maybe, Steve was slowly starting to allow himself to live in the way that he hadn’t ever gotten the chance to do, before  _ or _ after the ice. Either way, Bucky had to admit that it was beautiful to watch. How his smiles had begun to reach his eyes and how, when he laughed, it was more genuine and fully bodied. The way he settled back into his previous, more tactile mannerisms that Bucky only just began to remember. 

Steve glanced up from the book in his hands and Bucky didn’t let himself startle or feel embarrassed at being caught watching. Steve smiled and tilted his head to the side in question. “What’s on your mind, Buck?”

Bucky shook his head and shrugged. “Just thinking over things.”

“Don’t overwhelm me with details.” Steve smirked playfully, closing his book and leaning forward to drop it onto the table next to his feet. He settled back against the couch, his arm stretched across the back.

“Just thinkin’ that this was a good idea. The house. Getting out of the city,” Bucky admitted thoughtfully. “And not just for me.”

Steve nodded in agreement. “I was a little worried that it would do the opposite with being kinda isolated like we are. But yeah, it’s been good.”

“We’re really only isolated if we want to be though, aren’t we?” Bucky pointed out.

“True,” Steve conceded. “I guess my worry was more that we’d let ourselves become isolated. Withdrawn. I’m glad that we’ve not fallen into that.”

“I don’t think your team would let you if you tried and I think I’m well aware that you’re not about to let me lock myself away anymore.” Bucky smirked. “And I think that alone is gonna keep you from doing it.”

“You’re probably right,” Steve said with a small laugh.

“You always did do stuff like that though, didn’t you?” Bucky asked with a thoughtful frown. “You always were hard pressed to take care of yourself but didn’t think twice before making sure me and the girls were okay. Don’t think any of us quite saw it that way, back then, though did we?”

Steve eyed him for a long moment and shifted almost awkwardly where he sat, “Yeah, that sounds about right.”

Bucky’s eyes narrowed, zeroing in on the obvious discomfort that he wasn’t able to figure out the source of. “Why does that make you squirm?”

“It doesn’t,” Steve assured, tone bordering on dismissive. “I’m fine, Bucky.”

“I don’t think I bought that line back then either,” Bucky pointed out. “Spill it, Rogers.”

Steve sighed and let his head fall back against the couch, staring up at the ceiling. “I just remember doing the things you were talking about, is all.”

“You were never uncomfortable when you were doing it, were you?” Bucky asked, frowning in confusion when Steve shook his head. “So why’s it makin’ you uncomfortable now.”

“It doesn’t,” Steve insisted. “I liked being able to look out for you the way you always did for me. Kinda made me feel like I was less of a burden.”

“You were never a burden, Steve,” Bucky said.

“Maybe not,” Steve said, tilting his head into a slight nod of concession before continuing in a softer, more knowing tone. “But that doesn’t keep the feeling away, does it?”

Bucky stared for a brief moment before huffing a small laugh and shaking his head slowly. “No, no it doesn’t.”

“You’re not either, you know,” Steve pointed out quietly after a few minutes of thoughtful silence.

“I’m not what?” Bucky asked.

“A burden,” Steve said simply.

“Maybe one day we’ll both be able to believe that,” Bucky responded.

“Yeah, maybe.” Steve smiled.

* * *

Somewhere along the line, the careful barrier that Steve had attempted to keep between them--the one that kept Steve’s goddamn hands to himself and Bucky didn’t flinch away--began to erode. So slowly and subtly enough that he hadn’t realized it was gone until he automatically rested his hand, palm down and fingers spread wide, at the middle of Bucky’s back when moving around him in their newly-refinished kitchen. And it was only when Bucky leaned into the touch instead of jolting away that it registered that it wasn’t the first automatic touch Steve has been stealing. 

Years and years ago it wasn’t a big deal. Not at all. They had always been...close and the casual comfort of touch had once been a part of that. Steve could remember sitting on the wobbly wooden chair at the warped and equally wobbly table in their tiny little apartment. Bucky, exhausted as he was from the long hours and demanding workload, tended to move almost automatically, draping tiredly over Steve’s back while muttering some sarcastic quip or another. Or curling protectively around him when Steve was ill, down and bedridden. An arm across boney shoulders. Another looped lazily around a sturdy waist. Falling asleep with heads on shoulders. Rough housing all the way to seeing just how many places Steve Rogers was ticklish. It was  _ normal. _

It had been such a glacial transition from touch-wary to accepting and even quietly encouraging the contact that Steve hadn’t entirely noticed it happening at all. When he did finally begin noticing, it became clear that he wasn’t the only one that had been chipping away at that barrier. They both had. They were both still cautious and careful. They didn’t rough house the way that they used to but Steve thought that was perfectly understandable and, frankly, preferable. 

As that carefully crafted wall between them began to crumble, sitting on opposite ends of the couch turned into sitting side-by-side, shoulder to shoulder. The slow change gave the encouragement to go from listening to the painful sounds of nightmares but keeping a cautious distance to intervening. Offering the hand to pull each other out of the hellscape of their mind.

There were, of course, still days when even the gentlest, most casual touches scraped brutally like coarse grit sandpaper to a gaping wound. Steve was fairly certain that there would always be days like that, for both of them. But even on those days, Bucky seemed to begin accepting his presence, not shutting himself away in his room or leaving the house to patrol the property for hours at a time as often as he had done in the beginning. 

At the beginning, when Steve had first brought Bucky home to his apartment in Washington DC, it had felt like a constant pattern of two steps forward and five steps back. As though any progress they might have made was inevitably going to be undone, whether by a poorly timed siren shrieking past on the street below, a neighbor slamming a door somewhere in the building, or an especially bad night. The feeling that he was failing Bucky, failing both of them, had been a constant ache.

Months later though, in the quiet safety of their home that they both worked hard to shape into something purely  _ theirs, _ Bucky seemed to find some stability. Some sense of safety and security that he was able to slowly begin to heal. From what Steve was able to tell, Bucky was able to sleep more nights than he wasn’t, maybe not clear through the night but even a couple solid hours of uninterrupted sleep was progress. He smiled more and he actually laughed. And while that haunted, self-hatred hadn’t gone away, especially in the early morning hours when they sat awake together, it had slowly begun to give ground. 

Steve knew, both from his reading--that he still made a point to keep up with--and from his own experience, that they would both be working through and battling their respective demons for the rest of their lives. It was a long battle that would get easier with time but one that they would have to consciously and consistently be prepared to fight. 

But sitting on the couch together, a movie on the television and an armful of snacks scattered across the table in front of them, Steve thought that those battles might be a little easier if they fought them side-by-side. He shifted sideways, leaning comfortably against Bucky’s shoulder, biting back a grin when Bucky also leaned a little heavier into him. 

Steve ended up falling asleep half-way through the movie, he wasn’t sure if Bucky had nodded off as well. Steve woke when Queenie hopped off of the couch, the living room lit by the early morning sun. At some point, they wound up stretched out instead of upright, Steve’s head tucked comfortably in the curve of Bucky’s shoulder instead of just against it. 

It was new and entirely unexpected but Steve couldn’t say that the change was uncomfortable or unwelcomed. Bucky smiled a surprisingly warm smile as Steve pushed himself back upright. Steve found himself almost helpless to return it. As he and Queenie took off for their morning run, Steve wondered if that was another step in their slowly evolving dynamics or if it was just an odd one-off. He wouldn’t ask, wouldn’t press but he knew that the selfish part of him genuinely hoped that it was the former.

* * *

They had finally finished most of the renovations on the list for the main level about six months in and Bucky had to say that he was very pleased with the results. He had been slightly less pleased with the hassle that trying to choose new furniture for the finished rooms had turned out to be. Steve had wanted some weird green fabric sofa whereas Bucky thought the dark brown leather sectional would look better with the woodfloors and the sage green paint that Bucky had picked out for the living room. After several long minutes of circular discussion, they compromised and got the dark leather sectional. 

Bucky had conceded in getting a couple of comfortable armchairs in the same green as the walls that went on opposite ends of the dark wood coffee table. 

Bucky had suggested and Steve had agreed to stick with a similar color scheme for the connected dining room. The large table--which they had yet to use, generally taking their shared meals at the breakfast bar--was long and rectangular. Similar dark wood as the tables in the living room. However, the chairs and stools for the breakfast bar were upholstered in a cream leather. Bucky had to admit it looked good despite his initial uncertainty about the combination.

It wasn’t until the furniture had been delivered and they busied themselves with arranging everything to their tastes that Bucky realized how uncharacteristically accommodating Steve had been throughout the entire process. True, he had argued and made his cases for why he liked one option better than whatever Bucky had suggested. But on nearly every decision they had made about the house so far--from the cabinets to the couches--Steve inevitably gave in to whatever Bucky had wanted. 

And the man didn’t look the slightest bit upset or discouraged about it. Instead, his expression would linger with some odd combination of pride, pleased, and fond affection. Everytime, that expression made Bucky undeniably grateful that he had kept his longer hair thus far, allowing him a way to hide the heat he could feel in his ears. He wondered if Steve had always been so free with his willingness to give into what Bucky wanted and Bucky just hadn’t known to notice it back then or if it was something this modern world had drawn out.

The walls were still ridiculously bare, and seemed even more so with all of the furniture in place. Bucky had made Steve promise to create some works for them to put up once they got his studio put together. Steve had ducked his head shyly and flushed when Bucky had made the request looking oddly surprised and pleased when he finally agreed. Which Bucky thought was just ridiculous, if endearing. As if he would have anyone else’s work on their walls. 

Between the renovations, Queenie’s training--Steve had found a reputable trainer who was willing to travel to client’s homes and Romanov had insisted on vetting the woman thoroughly--, and tending to the newest young additions to their new household, Steve and Bucky actually started to live a little. 

Steve still woke up early to run the property every morning. By the time he got back, Bucky would have started breakfast, making more than enough food to tide two hungry supersoldiers over until lunch. When Steve had finished showering off and redressing in day clothes, breakfast and two cups of coffee were generally ready and waiting on the counter. 

After that, Steve would head upstairs to work on getting the bedroom-turned-studio put together how he wanted it and Bucky would spend a couple of hours chipping away at whatever the next project on his list happened to be. They would regroup in the early afternoon to throw together something simple for lunch, talking easily over their progress on the respective projects. The afternoons seemed to automatically become reserved for sprawling across the couch together, reading up on some seventy-odd years of history and attempting to complete the education that neither of them had really had the opportunity to before the war. Something, Bucky was amused to note, wasn’t common knowledge even as far as most Captain America tales went.

All things considered, it was probably for the best that the incomplete education had been left out of the stories. Steve was smart, far smarter than much of anyone was willing to give him credit for back when they were young. As far as Bucky was concerned, Steve had already proven that a hundred times over.

Bucky had tentatively asked Steve if it would be alright to turn the garage into a workshop of sorts. Steve had blinked in surprise at the request but then shot that same pleased and affectionately fond smile and agreed easily. The easy acceptance still managed to catch Bucky off guard but he swallowed down his mild discomfort at the way Steve just seemed to keep giving and giving. 

A few weeks later, Steve hesitantly asked about possibly having his team out for a visit. A belated house-warming party, as it were. Bucky was admittedly reluctant to open their home to people he really didn’t know but it was the first thing, aside from the studio, that Steve had actually asked for himself. That simple fact and the poorly concealed hopefulness in Steve’s expression wore down his resolve and he found himself agreeing. 

Which is how he found himself sitting on one of the stools at their breakfast bar, watching as Steve greeted Sam Wilson with an enthusiastic hug, clearly taking Sam by surprise, and invited him inside. Queenie sat at Bucky’s feet watching the new arrival with a curiously wagging tail and perked ears, tilting her head back to check with Bucky for how to respond. 

“Hey Barnes,” Sam greeted causally as Steve led the way into the kitchen. 

“Wilson,” Bucky answered quietly with a short nod. 

“And who is this?” Sam asked curiously, looking down as a small black ball of fur wound around his ankles.

“Steve found her and her brother in an alley last month,” Bucky shrugged. No sooner than the words were out of his mouth, the other little ball of fur came barreling into the kitchen, sliding slightly across the wood and tackling the black cat in playful eagerness.

“Felix and Lucy,” Steve commented idly as he ducked his head down level with the oven to check on the roast that he and Bucky had thrown together in advance. Bucky’s eyes automatically followed the movement only to quickly avert his eyes back to the mug in his hands as Steve straightened back up. If there was anything about his conditioning to be grateful for, it was that he was no longer much of a blusher. Bucky had no doubt that he likely would have given himself away months ago otherwise.

“A house and a dog and cats,” Sam listed off with a smirk, eyeing Steve’s intentionally bland expression with a knowing look. “You guys are just settling right into this little domestic bliss thing you got going on, aren’t you?”

Steve shot Sam a look, ears tinting pink and huffed a small, awkward laugh. “Yeah,” he said with a slight shrug. “Yeah, I suppose we are.”

Sam carefully stepped over the quarreling kittens to lean against the counter near Steve, back against the counter and arms crossed loosely in front of him. He glanced around curiously, clearly taking in the multitude of changes from the last time he had come by. “Kitchen looks great. You guys did good.”

“Buck did most of it,” Steve replied, shooting Bucky a proud grin that made Bucky thankful again for no longer being the sort that blushed. “The downstairs is pretty much done. It looks completely different than when we got it, if you wanna take a look around.”

Sam seemed to consider it for a moment and then nodded. He pushed away from the counter, clapping Steve on the shoulder before tucking his hands in his pockets and left the kitchen to see the rest of the house. Bucky felt oddly on display with someone else, someone aside from him and Steve, looking over and potentially critiquing the work they had done. 

Bucky wavered for a moment before standing from his stool and shoving it back under the counter. He clicked his tongue and Queenie fell into step beside him. He stopped when he drew even with Steve, leaning his shoulder lightly into Steve’s back where he stood at the sink and spoke quietly, “Queenie and I are gonna go for a walk before everyone else gets here.”

Steve nodded and carefully turned around to face him, one hand coming up, hesitating when it reached waist level as though Steve was actually considering resting his hand there before diverting to cup his arm, just above the elbow. Bucky didn’t linger on the thought. Steve had fallen back into his more hands-on, touchy mannerisms and Bucky had found it easier than he thought it would be to adjust to it. But the look in his eye was intense and Bucky could clearly identify the protectiveness and concern that was so purely Steve that it ached. “You alright?” He asked softly, thumb making gentle sweeps against Bucky’s arm, seemingly without Steve realizing what he was doing.

“Yeah.” Bucky nodded dismissively. Steve’s brow arched in disbelief and Bucky rolled his eyes. “Yeah, I’m good. Just need to...you know...get in the right headspace before I’m stuck inside with a bunch of people I don’t really know or trust.”

“Why didn’t you say something before?” Steve asked, expression falling into the all too familiar look of guilt. “We could’ve waited, Buck.”

“‘Cause you wanted this and I don’t have to trust them to trust you,” Bucky answered easily. “I’ll be fine, Steve, just gotta get my head on right first.”

Steve’s expression remained slightly somber and his mouth opened as though he was going to say something further but instead he just nodded. “Alright, Buck,” he said finally with an understanding smile. He shifted forward slightly and then immediately shifted backwards until he was leaning back against the counter once again, his face going flush as he cleared his throat. 

“Are  _ you _ alright?” Bucky asked, confused by the sudden change. There had been a small fraction of a second where he had been almost heart stoppingly sure that Steve had been about to kiss him. These days, Bucky was sure enough of his own mind to know that was wishful thinking at best. Steve might have gotten comfortable enough to touch Bucky but that was a little beyond what had become the new normal. It had to be something else that got the man so flustered all of a sudden but Bucky couldn’t figure out what for the life of him.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m good, Buck,” Steve said with a nod and a smile that was far closer to a grimace than any smile Bucky had seen him wear in quite some time. Bucky studied him narrow eyed for a long moment before deciding to let Steve keep his secrets if he really felt the need to. 

“Back in a bit, punk,” he said after another short pause. Clearing his throat somewhat awkwardly, Bucky urged Queenie ahead of him as he opened the door and left the house. A quiet sigh of relief escaped him as he slowly crossed the yard, taking comfort in the now-familiar surroundings.

“Barnes,” a voice called from behind, the sound of the door closing reaching across the short distance.

Bucky bit back a frustrated sigh and turned back to watch Wilson jog to catch up. He felt tense and on edge for reasons beyond the little get-together that Steve wanted to host but Bucky couldn’t pinpoint the source, wasn’t entirely sure he wanted to pull that particular thread either. Instead, he forced down his ridiculous irritation and met Wilson’s eyes expectantly as he drew even.

Wilson stayed quiet for a moment, eyeing him speculatively before he sighed. “I just wanted to check that you’re actually cool with all of us being out here. I know how Steve can get when he’s got some bright idea in that head of his, but if I need to take off and pass the word, let me know.”

Bucky frowned in confusion for a moment and shook his head slowly. “Steve asked about it and checked before he even brought it up to you. It’s fine.”

“Yet me showing up sent you bolting out of your own house,” Sam pointed out. He brought his hands up, fingers spread in a conciliatory gesture. “I’m not trying to argue or put you on the spot, honest. I just thought it might be smart to make sure this wasn’t one of those Steve things.”

“Steve things?” Bucky repeated and then huffed irritably. 

“Yeah, Steve things. When Steve Rogers gets an idea and runs with it, forgetting that other people might have a different perspective,” Sam clarified with a shrug.

“I’ve had nothing bad to say about his ideas,” Bucky said a little defensively. “His bright idea is what got us out here, wasn’t it?”

Sam eyed him for a long moment again before huffing a low laugh and shaking his head in disbelief. “Now you’re just being ridiculous, Barnes,” he said shortly. “The man’s got you a dog and a pair of cats, bought you a goddamned _house_ that, from the looks of, you’ve had entirely free reign to do whatever the hell you wanted to do with. And you’re still trying to act like a jealous asshole. Believe me, Barnes, even if I was interested in Steve like that, I know a lost cause when I see one.”

“Steve didn’t buy me a house,” Bucky argued immediately, the change in the conversation throwing him. The defensiveness rose again alongside the simmering irritation. Jealousy? Bucky forcefully shoved the thought aside. “He invited you too. Not just me.”

Sam frowned and shook his head again, this time in confusion. “Steve didn’t invite me to move with you guys.”

“That’s not what he said when he told me about this place,” Bucky retorted. 

“I’m not sure what he’s been saying but I’m tellin’ you, Steve never asked me,” Sam said firmly. “And he wouldn’t have ‘cause he’d have known that I wouldn’t accept. The most I’m involved in any of this was helping him find your dog.”

It was Bucky’s turn to frown in confusion, taking in the new information. “Why would he lie?”

“That’s between you two.” Sam shrugged. “Steve might be my friend but that doesn’t mean that I signed up to be your weird ass couple’s counselor. All I’m saying is that you’re welcome to lay off the evil eyes. He doesn’t want me and I don’t want him.”

Neither of them spoke for a long, tense moment as the conversation settled harshly in Bucky’s mind. None of it made sense. Steve wasn’t the sort to lie about something so trivial. Maybe that meant that Bucky had somehow misunderstood, taken a different meaning from what had actually been said? He honestly wasn’t sure anymore.

Finally, Sam sighed, running an exasperated hand over his face before letting it drop back to his side. “How’s this, whatever misunderstanding we’ve got going on here, we leave it here. Start fresh. Like it or not, Barnes, you’re a part of this crazy, dysfunctional family now, might as well try at getting along.”

Bucky allowed himself a brief moment to consider the words and the offer. It was really no wonder Steve grew close to Wilson, not with things like that coming out of him. Though, as far as Bucky can tell, Wilson was a whole lot calmer, steadier than Steve’s managed to be. He was fairly certain that Steve would get there too, eventually. Once he managed to find his footing a little more fully.

“I,” Bucky hesitated and then nodded in agreement, awkwardly extending his hand out. “I can do that. Bucky Barnes.”

Sam laughed, a seemingly genuine one and accepted the odd handshake. “Sam Wilson,” he grinned. He took a step back, letting go of the shake and his expression shifted more seriously. “I mean it though. You need us out of here, let me know and I’ll do the wrangling.”

“I’ll be fine,” Bucky said, more reassuring than his previous attempt. “But thank you.”

“No problem,” Sam said, walking backwards toward the house. “Catch you when you get back.”

Bucky waved lazily before turning back to the treeline with Queenie at his side. 

When they finally returned to the house, it was mostly dark out even though he had only been gone around an hour and a half. He let Queenie precede him into the house, following behind and closing the door. A quick glance into the living room told him that just about everyone that was going to show already had and that dinner was still in the oven, table set in preparation for everyone to eat. They were all gathered in the living room for the moment, though. Bucky could hear the television on at low volume. Steve was sitting on the far end of the couch--his usual spot--with Wilson just to his right and Widow perched on the arm of the couch, her bare feet wedged under Steve’s thigh. Barton had taken up one of the arm chairs and was eyeing the fireplace curiously. Steve had mentioned that Barton did some remodeling on his own home, Bucky wondered if he would be able to pick up some tips and tricks about the whole process.

And Steve was smiling. Grinning actually, eyes bright and cheeks flushed, Wilson and Romanov seemed to be teasing him about something that Bucky couldn’t quite catch. Their attention was grabbed by Queenie barreling her way into the room ahead of Bucky, tail wagging curiously as she sniffed the new people in her home. Steve didn’t watch the dog, instead lifting to meet Bucky’s eyes with a hint of relief. Bucky wondered if a time would come where Steve wasn’t worried about Bucky disappearing again. Bucky offered a small smile before diverting to grab a couple of beers from the refrigerator. 

As he rounded the couch Barton glanced up and spoke, “Cap said you did most of the work in here?”

“Wouldn’t say most.” Bucky shrugged, resting Steve’s drink against the man’s chest until Steve accepted it with a grateful smile and moved to settle into the other arm chair that just so happened to be the one nearest the end of the couch Steve had taken up. “But I did a lot of it, yeah.”

“Did some good work here,” Barton complimented. “Steve showed us the before pictures, doesn’t even look like the same place. Might have to pick your brain a bit on that fireplace.”

“Leave my brain outta it and I might tell you what you wanna know,” Bucky answered dryly, earning an amused grin from the man.

Conversation flowed surprisingly easily after that. The work on the house and the animals provided a ready made ice breaker conversation. Bucky might have found it more amusing that he should have when Queenie shoved her way between Wilson and Steve, which to be fair was her usual spot, dropping her head lazily into Steve’s lap with her back end against Wilson’s thigh. Wilson had playfully shoved Steve when he had laughed earning a low warning growl from Queenie.

Steve soothed Queenie, with gentle strokes down her back and shot Sam an apologetic smile. “Takes her a little while to warm up, is all. She’s not had much socialisation aside from me, Bucky, and her trainer.”

“I get it,” Sam shrugged. “Probably a little weird for her. Having her home overrun with all these strange people.”

“Well, you got the strange part right,” Bucky quipped.

“Because you’ve got so much room to talk.” Natalia smirked.

“Never claimed I did,” Bucky responded. 

“Where are your other furballs hiding out at?” Sam asked curiously. 

Steve frowned thoughtfully and shrugged. “Probably upstairs somewhere. They don’t have much socialization either. I’m sure they’ll get curious enough to make their way down at some point.”

“Probably getting little prints all over whatever you were painting earlier,” Bucky teased.

Steve shot him a fond glare but shook his head. “Nope,” he said firmly. “Not repeating that mess, I remembered to shut the door this time.”

Sam eyed the two of them with an odd smile for a moment and then shook his head. He muttered something under his breath that Bucky couldn’t catch but that had Steve nudging him in the side with his elbow. Whatever it was, Sam only grinned at Steve unrepentantly in response to the nudging.

Their banter, if that’s what they wanted to call it, was interrupted simultaneously by a rap at the front door and Steve’s cell phone ringing. Steve rolled his eyes and gently nudged Queenie off of him. “That must be Tony and Pepper.” He purposefully ignored his ringing phone and shot Natasha an exasperated look when she snickered. 

Bucky tensed as Steve answered the door, he still wasn’t entirely sure what he was meant to think about Steve’s friendship with Stark. Bucky remembered all too clearly what he was required to do to Howard and Maria Stark, had confessed it all to Steve before they had moved to the house following a particularly bad night. Steve had assured him that it would all be alright but how could it?

Steve was smiling happily as he chatted with the newcomers, though Bucky could see more of that exasperation in his expression too. Something told Bucky that Stark brought that out in a lot of people. Pepper Potts must be something of a saint to deal with the man on a regular basis.

Just as Steve politely hung Pepper’s jacket on one of the pegs by the door, the oven started beeping obnoxiously. “Looks like you got here just in time,” Steve smiled before excusing himself to the kitchen. Bucky nodded to himself and pulled out of the chair, clicking quietly until Queenie perked up and slid off of the couch to trail him into the kitchen as well.

He moved easily into step with Steve in an easy rhythm that they had quickly adapted. Or possibly just readapted to the new century. Steve carefully pulled the roast from the oven, setting it aside to rest while Bucky reached around him to put the tray of rolls into the now empty oven. Without a glance, Steve dropped the oven temperature and shifted to the side as Bucky closed the door. Steve reached for the wine they had bought and Bucky got the key, accepting a bottle and opening it easily and passing it to Steve and repeating with the second. Steve nudged them across the counter until they stopped in front of Natasha, who was watching them curiously, arms crossed thoughtfully until Steve arched a brow. She smirked in amusement before taking the bottles to the table.

Together they made quick work of the various vegetables that they had bought for the salad--Bucky wouldn’t admit it, but he looked forward to the garden Steve had promised to get all of that from--and then Bucky left Steve to toss it all together while he stepped back to the oven, turning it off and pulling the rolls. He didn’t bother with a mitt, using his metal hand was just as efficient. A bowl appeared at his shoulder and Bucky carefully dumped the hot rolls into it. Steve flashed a grin before pushing the rolls down the counter to stop in front of Sam, who rolled his eyes good naturedly but did as instructed and took the bowl to the table. 

The pattern continued until the food was plated out on the table, wine and water was poured into respective glasses, and they all sat at the table ready to eat. Bucky settled in the chair beside Steve, hand on one broad shoulder to steady himself, not that he actually needed the assistance but it seemed to be a habit to the point of muscle memory that Bucky hadn’t felt the need to train himself out of. It was only when he rested back against his chair that he noticed the surprised amusement on the various faces around the table. He frowned slightly in confusion and shot Steve a questioning look. Steve just rolled his eyes and shrugged.

“That was mildly disturbing,” Tony quipped with a smirk.

“I think you mean informative,” Natasha countered with one of her own before turning sharp eyes back to study Steve and Bucky. 

“What are you on about now, Nat?” Steve asked, more of that exasperated fondness on his expression. Natasha met Steve’s gaze and slowly arched one brow pointedly. Bucky couldn’t have guessed what the underlying conversation was but it was interesting to watch Steve turn  _ that _ particular shade of red and duck his eyes back to his plate. Natasha snickered in amusement and Steve shot a mild glare in her direction. 

“Why are we having secret conversations?” Tony interjected. 

“Tony,” Pepper said, a slight hint of warning in her tone, though the amusement in her expression led Bucky to believe that she knew more than she was letting on.

Despite all of that, the dinner turned out to be rather pleasant. Much more so than Bucky had been anticipating. The most surreal part had come after dinner when Bucky had wanted a few moments to reground and volunteered to put the food away. He was half way through the task when Tony Stark rounded the corner of the kitchen, leaning against the counter in a false-casual way. Bucky eyed him hesitantly.

“First off, I think you should know that Steve already told me,” Stark started off, not quite looking at Bucky but staring somewhere over his shoulder. “And I read the files when Itsy Bitsy dumped all of Hydra-SHIELD’s stuff onto the internet. I know about the hit on my parents, I know that you were the weapon they fired in mom and Howard’s direction, and I-I  _ know, _ okay.”

Bucky cleared his throat in discomfort and dropped his gaze to where he was piling leftover roast into a glass container. “I’m sorry,” he said lowly after a moment. “I know that doesn’t really...mean much, not really. But I am.”

“Sure, I forgive you, I guess.” Stark shrugged. “I mean, you totally had free will and made the decision all on your own to follow that particular order, so it’s entirely your fault.” Bucky winced and the man rolled his eyes dramatically. “You and Rogers are a perfect pair, I swear. So willing to take guilt and blame that isn’t yours to take.”

Bucky shrugged and moved to shove the glass container into the refrigerator, probably with far less care than he ought to. After closing the door again he met Stark’s dark eyes again. “Still did it, though, didn’t I? This isn’t who I wanted to be, yet here I am.”

“I know a thing or two about that,” Stark smirked though there was a slightly painful twist to the gesture. His right hand rose to tap indicatively against his chest and Bucky could hear the solid ringing and recalled the intelligence that he had gotten from HYDRA about the man. He supposed if anyone other than the Widow could come close to understanding, it might be Stark. 

“Anyway,” Stark continued. “So you know, you and I? We’re good. Water under the bridge and all that jazz.” Bucky couldn’t help but just stare at the man in surprise. Stark shifted, pulling away from the counter to rock on his heels, hands shoved deep in the pockets of his jeans. “Steve mentioned that you wanted to set up a workshop.”

“I’ve been thinkin’ about it, yeah,” Bucky admitted slowly, confusion still lingering.

“Let me know if you want any help with set up,” he offered and then nodded at Bucky himself. “Or with that arm. Pretty sure I can make it work better for you. Or you know, show you how to make it work better for you.”

“You’d do that?” Bucky asked, eyes narrowed in suspicion. 

“Sure,” Stark said with a dismissive shrug. “Don’t know if you’ve heard but tech’s kinda my thing. Making tech work  _ better _ even more so.”

Bucky considered the offer for a moment but still couldn’t quite settle himself that it was made genuinely. “Why?”

“I’d do it for your own right, if you want the honest answer,” Stark said evenly. “It’s always fascinating to have one genuinely wanting to learn rather than learn for the money. And yes, I do see the irony in that statement coming from me. But,” he paused for a moment and glanced over Bucky’s shoulder, expression softening slightly. “But I would also do it because the more you’re settling into your own skin again the happier Cap’s settling too. Granted, we’ve only known Cap a couple years, just after he came out of the ice and even then he and I’ve been more tangenatly than actually close. But even Romanov and Wilson have commented that they haven’t often seen him smile genuinely like this in the time they’ve known him.”

Bucky considered the man’s words for a moment, shifting on his heels until he could look into the living room as well. Steve must have felt the attention because he immediately looked up, glancing between Bucky and Tony and then back again before tilting his head in concern. Bucky shook his head in the negative, no he didn’t need Steve to intervene, and quirked a small, reassuring smile. He felt his heart clench when Steve’s concern melted into the familiar affectionate smile, lingering for a moment before ducking back into his own conversation. Bucky swallowed thickly and turned his attention back to Stark who was studying him with intense curiosity.

“Happy’s a good look on him.” Stark smirked and then slowly walked back toward the living room. “You too, for that matter. Anyway, offer’s there Barnes. Steve knows how to reach me when you decide.”

Bucky hesitated a moment more before calling out, “Stark.” The man paused mid step and turned back to face him curiously. “I’d appreciate your help.”

“Let’s prove to the grown ups that we can play nicely and then you can show me your space, see what you’ve got to work with,” Stark suggested. ”And it’s Tony.” 


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky wasn’t sure what had woken him. For once, it wasn’t a nightmare, he had actually been sleeping relatively peacefully. His shoulder wasn’t bothering him. That left the two usual suspects out. Still, something had pulled him awake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy November!!!
> 
> Here's the next chapter :) Hope that you enjoy!

Bucky wasn’t sure what had woken him. For once, it wasn’t a nightmare, he had actually been sleeping relatively peacefully. His shoulder wasn’t bothering him. That left the two usual suspects out. Still,  _ something _ had pulled him awake. It was late, or early morning. He tossed his blankets off of him and sat up, rubbing a hand over his face as he went. 

Queenie wasn’t in her normal spot at the foot of his bed. 

Bucky frowned in confusion and climbed out of bed, tugging a pair of sweatpants on over his boxers as he went. He was fairly certain that no one would have been able to approach, let alone  _ enter _ their house without them knowing. Even knowing that, though, didn’t settle his rising nerves. He silently opened the top drawer of his side table, withdrawing one of the handguns that he still preferred to keep near. 

He carefully pushed his door the rest of the way open and stepped silently into the hallway. It wasn’t until he got to the bottom of the stairs that he froze entirely. Steve was sitting on the living room floor, staring blankly into the roaring fireplace that he seemed to be sitting as close to as was safe to do so. The throw blanket from the couch was wrapped tightly around his shoulders and Queenie was laying right behind him, pressed against his back.

Even from where Bucky was standing, he could see that Steve was still shivering. Bucky frowned in concern, approaching slowly and allowing his steps to fall slightly heavier and more audible. He engaged the safety and placed the gun on the coffee table before crouching next to Steve.

Steve didn’t seem to realize that he was there. Hadn’t heard or otherwise sensed his presence.

“Stevie?” Bucky called quietly, gently running a hand over Steve’s sweat-dampened hair. Steve startled at the touch, flinching away slightly and his wide eyed stare swinging around to meet Bucky’s. “Easy.”

“S-Sorry,” Steve mumbled. “Didn’t mean t’wake you.”

“You didn’t,” Bucky responded. “C’mon let’s get you to the couch. Then you can tell me what’s goin’ on.”

Steve shook his head but didn’t resist at all when Bucky tugged him to his feet with a careful grip on his arms. Bucky carefully led Steve to the center of the couch and set beside him. Bucky took a moment to arrange himself against the arm of the couch and then reached for Steve. It took very little urging to get Steve to lean into him, legs stretched out along the couch with his head resting against Bucky’s chest.

But he was still shivering.

Bucky carefully tucked the blanket more securely around Steve’s shaking body and wrapped his arms around him the best he could. He rubbed careful strokes up and down his back in an attempt to sooth the chill. “What’s goin’ on Stevie? Gotta tell me so I know how to help.”

“Nightmare,” Steve answered quietly. “The ice.”

“You’re safe now, Steve,” Bucky said gently but firmly. “We’re in our home in New York. Queenie’s on the floor and your other two puffballs are around here somewhere. I got you.” Steve’s head nodded slightly against him. “D’you wanna talk about it?”

Steve didn’t speak for several long moments and Bucky was about to take that as his answer when he finally spoke, “I knew what I was doing. What I’d decided. I just...Between the cold and the water. I-I felt it happen. I-I remember and I can’t forget. Serum won’t let me.” Bucky’s heart broke for the man. “It usually doesn’t hit me. Don’t let it. Don’t let myself sleep when it’s cold. I forgot and it came back.”

“Are you feelin’ cold now?” Bucky asked carefully.

Steve shook his head, cuddling more firmly into Bucky and absently nuzzling against his chest, “You’re warm.”

Bucky swallowed thickly and closed his eyes against the sudden rush of feelings that came along with Steve cuddling him so insistently. Allowing himself just a moment of weakness, it was to help Steve, he could allow himself that much, Bucky let himself curl more tightly around Steve, stretching his legs out onto the couch until he was able to share as much of his body heat as possible and tightening his arms around him. He was helpless to resist the small smile when Steve’s arms uncurled from against his own chest and wound around Bucky’s waist between his body and the couch, hands clinging to his sides where his arms overlapped. 

Bucky’s head tipped forward until he was speaking softly against the head of soft blond hair against his chest, “Try’n get some more sleep Stevie. I’ll keep watch.” Steve shook his head in disagreement but Bucky could feel that the shivering had stopped and could feel the nightmare-induced tension in his muscles begin to ease. Bucky encouraged the relaxing muscles as best he could, stroking over his back in slow sweeps of his hands, letting his right hand stroke and scratch gently into Steve’s hair and over his scalp while his left soothed over his back. It wasn’t long before Steve sank fully against him and his breathing evened out.

His hands came to a stop, one arm draped across Steve’s back diagonally over his shoulder blade and hand resting against his ribs on the opposite side. The other hand was still in Steve’s hair, holding his head against Bucky’s chest. Bucky allowed himself just one more moment of weakness, pressing his lips against the crown of Steve’s head and closing his eyes for just a few seconds. 

He might not be able to keep this, not once the sun rose and usual masks and expectations reapplied themselves. But for the moment Steve was trusting him with this. With his nightmares and with caring for him in the aftermath. Bucky still wasn’t certain he deserved the kind of trust that Steve always seemed to give him without question or hesitation. He damned sure wasn’t going to turn it down when it was given so freely. That Steve still cared enough, trusted him enough, to allow this...it was a balm that Bucky hadn’t known existed let alone that he was allowed to have. Even if only in passing moments.

He wanted this. Wanted to keep it. Wanted to be the one that Steve  _ came to _ during those god awful nightmares, not just the one that just-so-happened to stumble upon him. But that really wasn’t his to want, was it? Steve was already giving him so much. Everything, really.

Hours later, when the sun had finally peaked over the horizon and washed morning light into the living room, Steve began to stir. His arms tightened around Bucky’s waist and his face burrowed further into Bucky’s shoulder to which Bucky automatically responded by tightening his own arms comfortingly. “Mornin’ Buck,” Steve murmured sleepily and Bucky forced himself not to react to the feel of Steve’s lips moving against his skin.

“Morning Stevie,” Bucky responded quietly. “How’re you feelin’, Punk?”

“Warm,” Steve said and Bucky could feel the smile against his skin. “Thank you.”

“Anytime,” Bucky said easily, genuinely. He was surprised at how long they stayed like that, curled together on the couch. He had been certain that Steve would have woken up embarrassed and bashful. Eager to return to ‘normal’ and they would agree to just not mention it again. But Steve stayed, his thumbs brushing semicircles against Bucky’s lower back and Bucky’s fingers scratching gently at Steve’s scalp. 

Bucky hadn’t known it was possible for his heart to feel so full.

They only moved when Queenie whined from the front door. Steve sighed quietly and carefully shifted until he could pull back off of Bucky and drop into sitting on the cushion next to him instead, tossing the blanket over the back of the couch where he would have grabbed it from to begin with. Bucky tried not to miss his surprisingly comforting weight as soon as it was gone. 

Bucky enjoyed the look of pleased surprise that appeared when Steve found him waiting next to Queenie, dressed to join them on their run. He didn’t join them often, generally content to leave them to their morning routine. But that morning, Bucky had to admit that he wasn’t quite ready to break away from Steve’s space just yet.

* * *

When the car pulled up to the house--very obviously one of Tony’s fleet of cars, sleek, shiny, and undoubtedly ridiculously expensive--and parked beside the older truck that Steve and Bucky had gotten when they realized that they were going to need something sturdier, Steve was slightly surprised to see Tony and Clint climb out in addition to Sam and Natasha. He was glad to see them though

Unfortunately, he didn’t get the opportunity to greet them all like he would have liked. Not when Natasha caught his eye right off the bat and tilted her head in a familiar gesture. He held off long enough to settle the others at the house while still giving Bucky some opportunity to gather himself before facing the majority of the Avengers team. 

When everyone was settled, he nodded to Natasha and they exited through the front door, Queenie catching it with her paw and slipping out beside them with her favorite new frisbee hanging from her mouth. Queenie alternated between Steve and Natasha, chasing after the flung frisbee and bringing it back to one or the other each time.

They walked the property in silence for several long moments. It wasn’t unusual for Natasha to find ways to get him on his own. Occasionally to attempt to pry into one aspect or another of his life but, more often than not, to simply check up on him. Either way was fine, as far as Steve was concerned. With very few exceptions, he appreciated her concern.

Frankly, Steve wasn’t entirely sure he would be doing as well as he had been if not for Natasha’s interference. 

They were well away from the house and any prying ears before she finally broke the silence. “How is everything going?” Natasha asked, tone bland in a way that Steve had come to recognize as her way of disguising her genuine interest in the answer.

Steve shrugged as he gave the frisbee in his hand a lazy toss, smiling fondly when Queenie tore through the grass after it. “Pretty well, I think,” he answered. “Better. I think we were both a little unsure how we were going to handle being so far out but I think it’s doing a lot of good.”

Natasha nodded, remaining silent for the short time it took for Queenie to return with the frisbee and for Steve to toss it again. “You seem like you’re a little more steady,” she observed.

“I feel more steady,” Steve confirmed with a smile. “I mean, there’s still bad days. Still got the nightmares and nights I just don’t sleep. But I don’t feel like I’m always  _ on. _ It’s a good feeling.”

“And Barnes?”

“He’s doing better too, I think?” Steve responded with a thoughtful frown. “I think having the house to work on and keep himself occupied and out of his head helped. He’s got his bad days too but I think Queenie’s doing a lot for those.”

“What happens when the work on the house is done?” Natasha pressed.

“We have other projects and ideas that we’ve been talking about,” Steve shrugged. “Things outside like his garden, maybe a small barn with some animals. He’s also been talking with Tony about his workshop set up he’s been working on putting together. We’ve got more than enough to keep him occupied for a while yet.”

“It’s nice out here,” she said with a small smile. “I thought you were crazy when you told me about buying this place. But I can definitely see the appeal.”

“The quiet is nice,” Steve agreed.

They walked quietly, side by side, Steve tossing the frisbee each time that Queenie brought it back. Eventually she danced out of reach when he tried to retrieve it and Steve huffed a laugh, recognizing that she was done playing for the moment. 

“Have you told him yet?” Natasha asked coyly.

“Told who, what?” Steve frowned.

“Barnes,” she smiled and didn’t bother clarifying, just eyed him pointedly.

“No,” Steve said firmly. “Don’t think I’m going to anytime soon either. We’re both still getting our feet, Nat, and he’s come a long way but I don’t think it’s a smart move. At least not until we won’t end up sinking each other in the process.”

“That’s,” she blinked in obvious surprise, “very mature and well-thought out, Steve. I’m impressed.”

Steve snorted a laugh and nudged playfully with his elbow, earning a teasing grin in response. “Don’t get me wrong, if it’s an option, I don’t think I’d have it in me to step back just ‘cause we’re still working on things. We’re always going to be working through these things, I think. But, for now, this is...this is good enough.”

“Good,” she said with a smile. “I’m happy for you, Steve.”

Steve shrugged again, feeling his face warm slightly at the statement. “I like when you guys come out to visit too. It’s good to know for sure that all of this hasn’t, I don’t know, strained anything, you know?”

“I get that,” Natasha said thoughtfully. “I don’t think that it will though. To be honest, we were worried about you but were floundering on how to help you. If I had known before that shipping you off upstate was the answer I’d have done it ages ago.”

“No you wouldn’t have,” Steve grinned. “You wouldn’t have been able to keep an eye on me as easily.”

“True,” she conceded. “I don’t think it would have worked anyway. Not without these exact set of circumstances.”

“Yeah,” Steve agreed. “I don’t think SHIELD would have gone for it either. Pretty sure I can hear the exact speech Fury would have given had I even had the right mindset to bring it up any sooner.”

“He’s not entirely wrong,” Natasha shrugged. “We do need you. But we need you whole and healthy more.”

“You don’t need me, Nat,” Steve disagreed gently. “You’ve all more than proven that since I moved up here and stopped running Ops as often.”

“Maybe,” she said, head tilting to the side in semi-agreement. “But at the beginning? Our little ragtag group would have been in shambles from day one without you. We’ve all got the parts we play but you’re the one that held us together long enough to get where we are.”

“And where’s that?” Steve asked. “Where are we? To you I mean.”

Natasha was quiet for a long moment, considering the question and her answer. “I’ve been on my own for a very long time, you know that. Trust was never a thing that I thought I could actually have. It always felt reckless and dangerous. It  _ was _ something reckless and dangerous. And then Coulson calls, pulling me off my standard solo operation because the Director has this wild idea that I’m meant to fit on a team.”

“You didn’t think you were?” Steve asked curiously.

“I didn’t have to think,” Natasha said ruefully. “I knew that I wasn’t. I didn’t  _ want _ to fit on a team of people whose motives I couldn’t guarantee. At best, I figured that it would be a one time deal and I would be back to what had become my normal.”

“It almost was,” Steve agreed. “Just the one time deal.”

“But somehow, it wasn’t,” she frowned. “Tony invited us all to the Tower. I don’t know that I can explain it. Not in a way that actually gets my thought process into words. But those once-a-week movie nights trying to help you acclimate and to keep an eye on everyone turned into team nights throughout the week. And, bizarrely, I actually found myself looking forward to them rather than just attending them as a part of the job so to speak.”

“Yeah.” Steve smiled fondly at the memories. “Yeah, me too. We kinda solidified around the card table, didn’t we?”

“We did,” Natasha agreed. “But we ended up around that card table and in front of those movies because we cared about you and wanted you to be okay. Even if it didn’t start like that, that’s why it continued. Because, Steve, somehow you always saw the best in us and had this expectation that we be that best. It was infuriating at first, if I’m honest. But you trusted me, trusted  _ us. _ I’m confident in my ability to speak for all of us at this point. You  _ trusted us, _ Steve, even when--maybe especially when--none of us particularly trusted ourselves or each other.”

Steve frowned in confusion. “Should I not have?”

“Ask any of us, point blank, and we all would have had to tell you no, if we were being entirely honest with you and with ourselves,” Natasha said insistently with a soft laugh. “The very first time that you met Clint, he was under Loki’s control and I don’t have to outline what happened. The second time you met him? You automatically put him into a position of trust to watch your back. Spies, assassins, self-proclaimed monsters and war mongers, Steve. That’s the team SHIELD gave you to work with.”

“None of it would have worked if that’s all you were,” Steve corrected gently. 

“The point is that you earned our trust and our loyalty the day of the Chitauri by giving us yours first. Without question. Without hesitation. Without hidden motives. You showed us your back and trusted us to have it covered when you had absolutely no reason to trust anyone or anything,” Natasha explained firmly. “There’s not a whole lot of people out there that would trust a Widow at their back.”

“So,” she continued, cutting off whatever Steve might have had to say to that. “To answer your original question, where we’re at, what we are is a family. A completely dysfunctional family. But a family.”

“Dysfunctional is a good way of putting it,” Steve agreed with a small grin, looping his arm across her shoulders and tugging her gently into his side. Natasha had been simultaneously the easiest and the most difficult of his teammates to adjust to. From the beginning, she had little qualms against calling him on his reckless behavior while remaining the most distant for the longest. Steve couldn’t pinpoint the exact moment when their relationship changed from a frosty friendship to the warmer more familial dynamic but he knew that he wouldn’t trade it for anything regardless. “I’m glad though. That you think so too. It’s kind of odd going from an only child to a family this size though.”

“I bet,” Natasha laughed. 

“Come on,” he smiled easily, nodding his head back in the direction of the house. “They’ll send a search party if we don’t head back in soon and I don’t need repulsor marks in the grass around the house.”

* * *

The Avengers were at the house again. It was a little easier for Bucky to tolerate their presence than it had been the first time. Apparently, that had gone pretty far in breaking down the ice-laden walls in his mind that made trusting those he wasn’t intimately familiar with a difficult mountain to climb. As hesitant as he had been to agree with Steve’s request for the Housewarming party, it had been a good thing. For both of them.

The company was good for Queenie, too, if her excited prancing around their visitors once she had returned from the impromptu walk was any indication.

That didn’t mean that Bucky didn’t still struggle with the idea of going from interacting with just Steve and a couple animals to multiple people that he was, admittedly, still more than slightly wary around. It did help though, that they were all familiar faces that he had gotten along decently with the previous time. Stark, Barton, and Romanov. And Wilson, of course. 

Bucky recalled the last time that he and Steve had everyone over and the way that Sam had taken him to task for, essentially, being a blind idiot. He still hadn’t figured out how to confront Steve about the odd lie about inviting Sam to move to this place with them. He still couldn’t quite wrap his head around it either. 

Bucky had taken to observing Steve’s words and actions a bit more closely though. Attempting to find some sort of right or wrong in the things that Sam had insinuated.

The fond affection between Steve and Sam was entirely evident but following Sam’s setdown, Bucky had forced himself to look closer and more clearly. They didn’t act any differently than what Steve did with Natalia. In fact, the way that Steve treated the two echoed in Bucky’s memory, running parallel to the way that Steve had interacted with Bucky’s sisters once upon a time. Up to and including the affectionate way Steve gently tugged on one of Natalia’s curls and grinning unrepentantly at the mild glare it earned. Which, he belatedly remembered, had also been very much the same way that  _ Steve _ had interacted with the girls as well.

While Steve’s affection for Sam and Natalia was obvious, Bucky was able to read just how much he cared for the rest of his team as well. It was and wasn’t like the Howlies. Steve and Bucky had fond memories of their time with their old team but it had been an entirely different beast from what Steve seemed to have found with the Avengers. The Howlies had been their  _ team _ but the Avengers were Steve’s  _ family. _ Maybe as much as Sarah had been decades ago. 

Bucky felt the familiar stirring of guilt attempting to latch onto his mind at having inadvertently pulled Steve away from this. But then Stark-- _ Tony-- _ shot a grin after greeting Steve with a hug and something undoubtedly sarcastic considering Steve’s huffed laughter and Natalia’s eye roll. 

“Barney the favorite dinosaur!” Tony greeted as he dropped onto the stool beside Bucky--casting a grin to where Clint had immediately started whistling some song that apparently only Bucky and Steve didn’t know. “Any luck with your set up yet?”

“Haven’t done too much,” Bucky shrugged, eyeing the way that Sam and Natalia were seemingly attempting to glare Clint’s whistling into submission. “Figured it would be a better idea to get the house wrapped up first.”

“You’re about done with that though, aren’t you?” Tony asked, head tilted curiously even as he took a cursory glance around, taking in as much of the house as he could from their vantage point.

“Few things left to do upstairs but nothing as intensive as the downstairs was,” Bucky agreed. “We’re thinking about tackling some of the outdoor stuff come spring.”

Tony nodded along thoughtfully. “Have you thought anything about security?”

Bucky stared blankly for a moment and then smirked. “You do realize that nothin’ and no one except  _ maybe _ Natalia is getting within at least a mile of this house without me or Steve knowing about it, right? We’re an hour from the closest city. The closest neighbor is four miles to the north. Who’s dumb enough to try to raid a house owned by two supersoldiers?”

“Hydra,” Natalia said simply but carefully as she hauled herself up to sit on the counter, smiling sweetly in response to the glare Steve sent her. 

“Have you heard something, Nat?” Steve asked as he approached with Sam and Barton trailing just behind until they were all clustered around the breakfast bar. 

“Nothing specific,” Tony said before Natalia could respond. “There’s chatter and we’ve chased down a few leads already. Roasted a few bases and cells.”

“Right now,” Natalia interjected, “there’s no indication that they know where you are or that they’re actively attempting to locate you but…” she trailed off.

“But it’s HYDRA,” Bucky continued with a wry smile. “Who knows what goes on in their twisted heads. Best be prepared for anything then.”

“They’re crafty bastards and we already know that they’re not exactly dumb when they decide to make their move,” Sam agreed. “I’ve gone on a couple of the missions to track down the bases and cells. Most’ve them had smart layouts even though their ground troops weren’t the most competent, at least on those ones.”

“Shouldn’t be too difficult to prepare and be ready for them, just in case.” Steve nodded thoughtfully, his mind clearly running through options and ideas. “I run the perimeter daily. Buck, once you get your stuff set up, it wouldn’t be hard for me to lay some sensors. Just to give us a better heads up.”

Bucky inclined his head in agreement, considering the layout of the property. He didn’t traverse it as regularly as Steve did but he had spent several hours over the first few weeks memorizing the boundaries and various high and low points of the property. Strategic strengths and weaknesses. Between his and Steve’s knowledge and abilities, setting up even a rudimentary sensor system would be almost child’s play.

“Just a thought,” Tony added, “but I could help you integrate something like a panic switch a couple places throughout the house. Nothing like what we have at the tower and nothing that would monitor you or invade your privacy. Just maybe something that would alert JARVIS to something going on and he could alert us. We’re, what, ten minutes at most by quinjet? A couple minutes if I push the suit?”

“Tony,” Steve said with a fond sigh. “You don’t have to do that.”

“And you two shouldn’t and don’t have to operate under the belief that you’re going to have to face everything alone in the event that someone does try to show up on your doorstep,” Tony said with a surprising amount of fierceness. “Yes, you came here to get away from the craziness of the city and to gain some peace--which you fully and entirely deserve, for the record--but that doesn’t mean we’re going to leave you hanging.”

“Hate to tell you, Cap,” Clint teased, slinging an arm across Steve’s shoulders. “But you’re kinda stuck with us.”

“Pretty sure that’s not the first time you’ve been told that either,” Sam pointed out.

Bucky could tell how the words and efforts seemed to settle on Steve, the warmth of it. He could admit that he wasn’t immune to the sensation either. Thankfully, they were saved from having to do or say anything further considering that neither he or Steve--or Tony for that matter--were really much for digging into feelings even though they did feel them. Sometimes, words really weren’t needed.

“So, Rogers, what’s this I hear about you branching out in your artsy stuff?” Tony asked, cleanly diverting the conversation.

“Might be able to tell you if I knew what the hell you’re talkin’ about, Tony,” Steve said with a small grin. He pushed away from the counter to head toward the coffee pot, starting a pot with absent movements as he glanced back up in question.

“You’re actually showing it now,” Tony pointed out, nodding toward the framed piece that Bucky had hung just a few days before.

Steve shrugged. “Bucky wanted my work on the walls. So my work’s on the walls.”

“Uh huh, ‘cause Bucky wants it,” Sam teased, though considering that the knowing glance was shot at  _ Bucky _ rather than at Steve, Bucky wasn’t entirely sure which one he was poking fun at.

Both of them most likely, if Natalia’s amused smirk was any indication.

“Hey,” Bucky mock-protested. “Why the hell would I go buy off-the-shelf prints when I live with a goddamn artist? Just makes sense.”

“Oh I’m sure that’s the only reason,” Natalia said with a cheeky grin.

“You look at that one right there and tell me you could find something that’d better fit this house,” Bucky challenged.

“I’m sure Pep has something that would fit the house,” Tony said with an amused tilt of his head. “Maybe not the occupants, though.”

“He has a point though,” Clint jumped in, helping Steve juggle six coffee mugs. “It would be kinda weird if Bucky started hanging up anything other than Steve’s stuff wouldn’t it? It’d be like the team heading to the nearest Apple store whenever Tony works on new tech. Just wouldn’t jive right.”

“So, what you’re saying,” Steve drawled with a smirk as he settled Bucky’s mug in front of him and handed another mug across to Nat. “Is that my painting ability is on par with Tony’s tech ability? Thanks, Clint.”

“Wait, no, that’s  _ not _ what he said,” Tony denied. “It’s a loyalty thing. Not an ability thing.”

“Wow, thanks for the vote of confidence, Tony,” Steve said with a huff of laughter. There was nothing said, no non-verbal tells that Bucky had been able to pick up either, but at some unknown suggestion, the group moved easily and almost as one toward the living room. Steve tugged gently at Bucky’s arm to urge him to follow, keeping close almost automatically even as they all settled across the various furniture, coffee in hand.

Sam shook his head at Tony, a muffled grin on his face, “Way to kick a man when he’s down, Stark, damn.”

“That’s not what  _ I _ said either!” Tony protested.

“It’s okay, Tony.” Natalia smirked. 

“I swear I don’t know why I put up with this,” Tony huffed, though his amusement was just as obvious as anyone else. He shot an intentionally wide-eyed look in Bucky's direction. “Are you hearing this, Barney? You hear the shit I put up with?”

“Oh, I’m hearing it,” Bucky said with an easy grin. “Don’t think JARVIS and Siri’d get along too well, though.”

“Completely missing the point,” Tony said, eyes narrowing.

“You mean that other point?” Bucky said with a thoughtful frown. “The whole raining on Steve’s hard work in his own house? That point?”

“Says the guy that said the other one looked like bird shit on a windshield,” Steve shot back immediately. 

“It did!” Bucky insisted, unable to fight the grin at the startled laughter from the rest of the group. “But, in my defense, you did try to show it to me first thing in the morning.” That it had been early on a morning that had followed a night that had been awful for the both of them went unsaid.

“Okay, now I gotta see this bird shit painting,” Tony said, leaning forward in his seat eagerly. 

“No, I don’t need any more of your criticism, Stark,” Steve argued.

“Where’s he got it hidden away at?” Sam asked Bucky conspiratorially. 

“Sam,” Steve groaned. 

“His studio,” Bucky answered with a smirk. “Second door on the right upstairs. Probably in the closet, that’s where he used to hide the shit he didn’t want anyone to see.”

“Damnit Buck,” Steve said through a huffed laugh, sinking back into the couch with another groan as Natalia darted up the stairs while Steve’s attention had been occupied with watching Sam and Bucky. “Nat! Oh come on.”

Bucky laughed when Steve playfully shoved his shoulder, hard enough to jostle him but just gentle enough that Bucky’s reflexes allowed him to  _ not _ end up wearing his coffee. “Watch it punk.”

Natalia’s footsteps were much slower and quieter coming back down the stairs. Enough that Bucky was fairly certain that with the conversation and laughter, it was likely that only he and Steve actually heard her return. When she came into view, Natalia navigated around the furniture with ease without pulling her eyes from the large canvas in her hands. 

They all fell silent, seemingly waiting to hear her judgement though Sam and Clint both stretched to try to see over her shoulder. Though, Bucky was pretty sure that the only reason Tony hadn’t done the same was because the angle he sat meant that it wouldn’t have done any good. Natalia slowly pulled her eyes from the painting and pinned Bucky with an impressively incredulous stare. 

“You’re clearly a tasteless idiot, Barnes, if all you see here is bird shit,” she said, voice full of her usual dry tone but tinged with something else that Bucky didn’t know her quite well enough anymore to know how to place. She carefully turned the canvas away from her to face the room and a beat of silence followed.

“I dunno, Cap,” Clint hedged. “I think Barnes might have a bit of a point.”

Sam stifled a groan at the statement, shaking his head slowly in exasperation. Tony seemed to be intentionally avoiding Clint’s eye. When the two did catch eyes though, they both started snickering which quickly devolved into a full on bout of giggles. Actual  _ giggles  _ Bucky realized, shaking his head. 

“Yeah, well,” Steve sighed, shifting awkwardly in his seat. “Maybe it wasn’t my best but I didn’t think it’d be  _ that  _ bad.”

“It’s not. They’re just content to act like children,” Natalia said firmly, shooting dark glares at the giggling men before softening her expression as she looked back to Steve. She seemed to weigh her words for a moment and then shrugged one shoulder. “It’s beautiful, Steve. How did you get the variegated effects?”

Bucky followed her stare and took in the deep flush climbing over Steve’s neck and face and the way he was awkwardly avoiding Natalia’s eyes. Despite the fact that Steve had been the one to bring up the painting, Bucky couldn’t help but feel like a bit of an asshole. Steve had always been more sensitive about his art than just about anything else, upto including his health issues and small stature before the serum. As discreetly as he could manage, he shifted his arm backward until it connected with Tony’s ribs just harsh enough to get him to stop laughing but nowhere near hard enough to actually injure the man. From the corner of his eye, he could see Sam doing similar to Clint. 

Natalia ignored them, rounding the furniture until she could perch on the arm of the couch beside Steve, leaning into his shoulder with the canvas balanced carefully on her lap. Her fingers traced the odd pattern that Steve’s starburst created with her eyes following the trail of her fingertips.

“You like it?” Steve asked her quietly. The awkwardness that had pinched his tone and expression was gone, instead there was something soft and fond that had replaced it. Almost as though it were suddenly a private, intimate conversation just between the two of them, despite anyone else in the room. His attention seemed to be firmly and solely on Natalia, his issues from just seconds before seemingly forgotten at least for the moment.

“It’s beautiful,” she repeated, almost tonelessly. Steve nudged her gently and smiled warmly when she finally looked up from the painting. She tilted her head curiously and when Steve nodded once, Bucky could see her fingers tightening around the edges of the wood frame that the canvas was wrapped tightly across even as she returned Steve’s smile with a small one of her own.

It was strange to see Steve have those sort of silent conversations with Natalia. It had been strange when the five of them moved together from the kitchen to the living room with no noticeable tells. Those were things that, once upon a time, Steve and Bucky had been able to do without even having to think about it. A byproduct, he was sure, of spending so many years as close as they had always been. Yet something that they hadn’t quite managed to fully recover in the present. 

It was a welcome sort of strange though, Bucky realized. 

“So,” Clint drawled. “What just happened and why’d Sam hit me?”

“Because you’re being an insensitive ass, Barton,” Natalia said without sparing the man a glance.

“Just to recap,” Tony interjected. “We poked good natured fun at Steve’s art--which he started, by the way--and he goes all silent and then proceeded to give to you.”

“Yes, Tony,” Natalia said with a roll of her eyes. “Steve gave me the painting.”

“Why?” Clint asked curiously.

“‘Cause that’s what Stevie does,” Bucky answered quietly but affectionately, tilting to the side just enough to lean against Steve’s side fondly. “Especially when it comes to the things that he creates.”

“I-uh-I created a bunch of different pieces and then let Bucky decide what was going up,” Steve shrugged with a small amount of awkwardness but nowhere near what had been there previously. “The rest are still upstairs.”

“Gonna put on a show, Rogers?” Tony asked curiously, though there was an odd weight to the words that Bucky couldn’t quite interpret. 

Steve blinked in surprise at the question and glanced to Bucky first and then to Natalia on his opposite side, almost as though looking for permission. Or at least encouragement. Bucky leaned just slightly more heavily and somehow sensed Natalia doing the same on Steve’s opposite side. Steve hesitated a moment before voicing his offering. “We can bring them down, if you want?”

“Come on, I’ll help,” Sam said, leaning forward to place his mug on the table and getting to his feet. Steve wavered briefly before quickly following Sam up the stairs.

When they were gone, Natalia slid sideways off the arm of the couch until she was settled into Steve’s spot, the painting still held against her. She studied it again and then laughed softly. “You know,” she said thoughtfully. “The ones on the walls and this one? They’re actually the first I’ve ever seen of Steve’s artwork.”

“Really?” Bucky frowned and then nodded. “That makes sense I suppose.”

“How so?” Tony asked, shifting on the couch to face him more fully.

“That’s his soft spot,” Bucky said simply with a shrug. At the blank looks from the other three, Bucky sighed and attempted to better explain. “Steve’s good at making himself out to be this big tough guy. Suppose he is, in some ways but he did the same thing before he was as big as he is now. Even when he was a little guy, he had enough heart and determination, just didn’t wear it visibly like he can now. But he’s always been, I don’t know, a little more vulnerable about his art than about almost anything else.”

“Why’s he showing us now then?” Clint asked. “Especially after that one,” he added, nodding to the painting Natalia had.

“Because Tony asked,” Bucky replied. “And because Natalia appreciates that one as much as she does.” He stared down at his empty coffee mug and sighed at the lack of coffee but pressed forward in the conversation. “It helps that he clearly trusts and cares for you all. He obviously doesn’t still have the same hangups about being seen as vulnerable around you.”

“Clearly, huh?” Tony repeated.

“It’s clear as day to me,” Bucky confirmed. “You all might know him better than I do at this point, though.”

“He only just started letting us know him,” Natalia said quietly. “Not that I blame him. Our first impressions were kind of...disastrous. Well, aside from Sam that is.”

“What happened?” Bucky asked with a confused frown. He didn’t think that he’d heard the story of the Avengers first meeting. Though he was rather indisposed at the time so that wasn’t entirely surprising.

“Before the alien invasion,” Tony said. “Ended up on a helicarrier with a magic scepter playing us like puppets.”

“We argued, then we fought,” Natalia continued, her expression pinched. “We lost. And then we fought aliens and won.”

Bucky frowned in confusion and shook his head. “What makes that a disastrous first impression?”

“Uh, because we fought? As in each other?” Tony replied, seeming as confused as Bucky felt.

“I understand that but,” he shook his head again. “We  _ are _ talking about Steve, right?”

“Yes,” Tony answered, drawing out the word.

Bucky slowly looked between the three Avengers in his living room, all looking at him with varying levels of confusion. And then he couldn’t help it. He laughed. “Oh god, you all really  _ don’t _ know Steve at all.”

“Anyone else worried that RoboCop is losing it on us? No? Just me?” Tony asked with a frown.

“No,” Bucky shook his head and forced himself to sober. “No, you don’t get it.” He sighed and leaned forward in his seat. “Thing you gotta understand about Steve is that he is, and has always been, a fighter. Starting out bickering ain’t going to cause a bad impression with Stevie unless you’re some sort of bigot. Damn near exactly what Steve and  _ my _ first meeting was like when we were kids, actually.”

“I don’t think I’ve heard this one,” Natalia said curiously.

“Couple neighborhood boys had tagged up against Steve after school. Sayin’ all sort of nasty shit that didn’t belong coming out of any kid’s mouth, especially ones that young,” Bucky explained. “Even that young, Steve wasn’t the type to just leave it lay and it turned into a fight pretty much right in front of me. I was a few years older and a bit bigger than all of them. A lot bigger than Stevie. The other two ran off but not Steve. No, Steve assumes I’m just going to take their place and starts running that smart mouth of his at me.”

“So he’s always had the attitude.” Natalia smirked, looking up at Steve and Sam as they unloaded their armfuls of canvases, obviously listening to the story as well. 

“I didn’t know you remembered that,” Steve said with a small laugh.

Bucky shot him a smile before turning back to Natalia. “He’s  _ always _ had the attitude. The stories his Ma could’ve told you,” he laughed, catching Steve’s sheepish grin. “But, anyway, the little punk starts stepping up like he’s actually going to do something. We bickered. Of course we bickered. Can’t think of too many times we  _ didn’t _ bicker. We argued. We fought. And then we fought together. First the fights that Steve couldn’t seem to stay away from to save his life and then, well, the war.”

“That does sound eerily familiar.” Tony smirked. 

“Hey Steve,” Natalia called. “What was that you said about shared life experiences?”

“Hush, Nat,” he retorted fondly. “Entirely different type of conversation.”

Natalia laughed and explained, “Before everything went down in DC, I was  _ trying _ to set Steve up on dates. He was unsurprisingly resistant.”

“Yeah, he never had much taste for it when I tried either.” Bucky smirked.

“Wonder why that would be,” Sam said sarcastically from where he was helping Steve arrange the canvases to Steve’s exact specifications. 

“I have my suspicions,” Natalia mused.

“Just suspicions? It’s not even theoretical at this point,” Tony chimed in.

“Okay, okay, that’s enough,” Steve huffed, slightly pink around the ears. “You wanted to see what I’ve painted so here it is, gossip time is over.”

“Gossip time is never over, Steve,” Natalia countered as she stood, carefully placing the painting on the couch in the space that she left before approaching the other displayed pieces. 

“If you want to gossip about me behind my back you could at least do it where I can’t actually hear you,” Steve retorted, though his grin stole any hopes of being taken seriously in his complaint.

“Where’s the fun in that?”

The rest of the day carried on much like that. Bantering amongst themselves, though mostly mostly between Steve and Tony, which as far as Bucky could tell, was their usual manner of communicating. Bucky did manage to give as good as he got when the opportunity arose. Frankly, it was good to know that Hydra hadn’t succeeded in completely taking the ability to snark away from him, even if he was a little rusty.

It was...pleasant, actually. There had still been moments where Bucky had been overwhelmed but they passed with a surprising amount of ease. It had helped that both Steve and Queenie had mostly kept by his side through most of the day, with a few exceptions. But Bucky was fairly confident that it wouldn’t be long before such reassurance wouldn’t be entirely necessary to keep him grounded. He felt that it would be comparatively easy to let himself learn to trust this odd, mismatched family that Steve had managed to cobble together. 

They all left shortly after lunch. Bucky hadn’t been surprised in the least that Natalia wasn’t the only one to leave with a painted canvas in hand. 

“You alright?” Steve asked as he loaded the dishwasher with coffee mugs and various dishes from lunch.

“Yeah.” Bucky smiled, leaning back against the counter next to him, hands lightly gripping the granite on either side of his hips. “I’m glad you found them.”

“What do you mean?” Steve asked, brows furrowing as he glanced between Bucky and the various dishes that he was attempting to fit into the washer.

“Your team,” Bucky said. “They’re good and I’m glad that you let them be there for you, even if just sometimes or in small ways. They care about you.”

“I care about them,” Steve said with a small smile. “I was lucky. Didn’t feel like that at first but, yeah, real lucky.”

“It’s about damn time your luck turned,” Bucky smiled.

“Isn’t that the truth,” Steve huffed.

“What would you have done if you hadn’t found me right off?” Bucky asked hesitantly.

Steve paused for a very brief moment before his movements continued and he shrugged. “I’d have kept looking.”

“For how long?”

Steve set the remaining dishes back into the sink and turned to face Bucky fully. “For you?” He said with a slightly strained smile. “It wouldn’t have mattered. However long it took to bring you home.”

“Would you have asked them for help?”

“Sam volunteered almost before I even had a partial plan in place,” Steve admitted. “I think Nat would have been there too, however she could with her own stuff.”

Bucky considered the information against what he had gleaned from the earlier interactions. He was admittedly surprised and yet entirely unsurprised that Sam had been so ready and willing to dive into whatever help Steve might need without needing to be asked. Natalia. Natalia probably surprised him more than Sam, though. Widow girls weren’t meant to develop connections and attachments. That she had connected so well and so thoroughly with Steve spoke volumes. But…

“That’s not what I asked.”

“I don’t know, Bucky. Maybe?” Steve sighed. “Things were a little tense after I told Tony about Howard and Maria. I don’t know if I would have asked him or not. Now, looking back, hindsight and all that? Yes, I’d absolutely go to Tony for help but at the time? I didn’t know if that was a thing that I could really ask him to help with, you know?”

Bucky nodded slowly in understanding. “I never did understand how you managed to do that.”

“Do what?”

“You have this ability to draw people in and you’ve got a knack for knowing when they can and can’t be trusted and relied on,” Bucky mused. “You were like that even back when you were a tiny thing.”

“Natasha said something similar earlier, actually,” Steve replied. He looked oddly bashful at the admission, arms crossing in front of him and head ducking, eyes on the floor. “Said that the only reason our team is as close as we’ve gotten is because I laid the foundation. Not exact wording, but yeah.”

“If Natalia said that, I’d take it at face value,” Bucky advised.

“She said not many people would trust a Widow at their back,” Steve said quietly, almost wounded in tone. 

Bucky could understand both sides. He knew the Widow girls. Knew their training and their conditioning. Knew it intimately and all too well. Natalia hadn’t been wrong in her statement. It was nothing short of foolish, generally speaking, to put one of those girls at your back without also making a point to watch it. He knew Steve though, that wasn’t the way he operated. 

Steve wouldn’t have considered having to watch his own back, not if he had already handed his trust over to someone else to cover it for him. He wouldn’t have thought twice about it. Natalia had become ‘his’ to trust the moment he decided he could trust her, if only for the one mission. Widow or not, he would trust and would earn it in turn. He wondered if Steve understood the significance of it, that he had clearly earned her trust and they had grown as close as they had. 

Bucky doubted it. 

“She’s not wrong,” Bucky said finally. “Those girls’ training was...I don’t think you want to know what it was. She was trained from a very young age, Steve. I trust her because you trust her. My own training would make me hesitant to give her my back.”

“I don’t know anything about the other women that went through...that,” Steve said, nose wrinkling slightly at the thought of what Natalia went through. “But Nat, she’s good. She doesn’t see it yet. But she is.” Steve studied Bucky for a moment and then gave a small smile. “They all are and none of them see it. Same with you.”

Bucky swallowed thickly, giving in and tugging Steve into a loose hug. When Steve tightened his hold, Bucky let himself follow suit. “And that’s why having you around is so goddamn precious, Steve.”

It was more than he had meant to say, far more than he really  _ should _ have said. But Steve’s arms tightened further around his waist, pulling Bucky more firmly into the embrace and he tucked his face into the crook of Bucky’s neck. Bucky exhaled shakily and held just as tightly, wondering if there wasn’t more truth to the earlier teasing than he had originally been willing to give credit for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have a wonderful week!


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes, Bucky even made passing comments about the future. That alone was worth every dollar, dime, and penny Steve had spent up to that point and then some. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HI! I hope you're having a great week and that everyone is as safe and healthy as they can be!
> 
> We have two chapters left! One will go up tomorrow and the final will post next Saturday. We're almost there!

Getting out of the city seemed to have been a helpful idea. For both of them, if Steve was honest. It was a truly warming experience to be able to watch Bucky slowly come out of his shell while working on the house and interacting with Queenie and the cats. Even his interactions with Steve had noticeably changed. Conversation came more easily between them, though they still didn’t talk a whole lot about their respective horrors and Steve definitely didn’t mention the twisting ache beneath his sternum everytime Bucky let himself relax enough to smile or laugh. But they seemed to be able to talk about almost everything else.

Sometimes, Bucky even made passing comments about the future. That alone was worth every dollar, dime, and penny Steve had spent up to that point and then some. 

His nightmares didn’t seem as frequent as they had been when they were staying in Steve’s little apartment in the city, either. Not that either of them escaped horrific dreamscapes entirely but if anything Steve could do or had done contributed to the infrequency, then he was more than pleased. He wondered if being in a removed, _safe_ location was what had helped. He thought it had for him, so he could hope.

That night though, he hadn’t been able to sleep. Snow was falling heavily outside the house, coating the house and the property in a thick blanket of white, and the temperatures were expected to drop below freezing as the night went on. Steve had eyed the newscaster wearily at the pronouncement and had bitten back a resigned sigh. He had known that he wouldn’t be sleeping, there was no point in inviting nightmares.

Steve had played off his discomfort to Bucky, making a cheeky comment about having a white Christmas that year. It had worked, too. The comment making way for conversation about memories of snowball fights and ice skating. Neither mentioned Steve’s annual dance with death around this time of year when he was young. They both avoided even indirect comments on their respective freezings. 

Eventually, Steve had escaped into his studio, the space he had put so much time and focus into turning into a safe and relaxing place, instead of his own bed. The blinds and curtains had been pulled shut and the tiny space heater he had purchased before winter had set in fully was on and set on low in the far corner. His attention had been locked onto the large canvas he had bought with the intention of creating something to add to their new home, starting the design with feather-light pencil strokes, just enough to provide a guide when he finally switched to paints. Despite the number of paintings that he had already done, it still felt like it had been long enough that he didn’t yet trust his own abilities to try free hand with something he intended on hanging. 

His attention was pulled from the careful pencil strokes by a loud, painfilled shout from just down the hall followed immediately by a _thud,_ and then silence. Steve set his pencil aside and stood from his stool, quickly moving to the door of the studio. He hurried the few long steps it took from the studio door to Bucky’s bedroom door. After a moment of hesitation, Steve knocked lightly on the door.

It was only his enhanced hearing that allowed him to hear the low, ragged, “Yeah?” through the wood. Steve wavered another brief moment before pushing the door open and taking a step inside. Bucky was sitting on the edge of his bed, hunched in on himself with his hands digging into his hair. Even in the low lighting, Steve could see his form trembling and the shudder of his shoulders that coincided with the shaky, wet breaths he could hear.

He opened his mouth to speak and then snapped it closed again. It would be silly to ask if he was okay. He clearly wasn’t and asking would just give Bucky the opening he needed to shy away, to shut down and shut Steve out. Instead, Steve slowly moved forward and knelt in front of him. He reached up and gently pulled Bucky’s clenching hands away from his hair and let his own take their place, stroking soothingly. When Bucky didn’t balk at the contact, Steve used his hold to ease Bucky forward until his forehead rested against Steve’s shoulder.

It seemed as though the moment Bucky’s head made contact with Steve’s shoulder, his entire form melted forward and he sank against Steve, body still trembling and shaking and the fabric of Steve’s t-shirt rapidly grew damp. The position was awkward and couldn’t truly be comfortable for either of them. Steve frowned in thought and then, without releasing his hold on Bucky, he stood and shifted until he was able to settle onto the bed. 

“I got you Buck,” He murmured softly, hand stroking soothing stripes up and down his back. “It’s a nightmare, that’s all. They can’t get to you here. Won’t let them. You’re safe.”

Eventually, the trembling slowed and then stopped but Bucky’s hold on him didn’t ease at all and so Steve didn’t let his lighten either, more than content to hold onto Bucky as long as he was allowed. Steve shifted and Bucky’s hands tightened, Steve made a low soothing sound and spoke quietly into Bucky’s ear, “Not lettin’ go, was just gonna get us a little more comfortable. Not goin’ anywhere, Buck.”

Steve carefully arranged them, lying on his back in Bucky’s bed with Bucky stretched against and over him, a leg thrown over his thigh and a metal arm belted around his waist while the other clenched into the fabric of Steve’s shirt. Steve wrapped both of his arms around Bucky, holding him securely, one hand sliding up over Bucky’s spine until he could comb his fingers gently through Bucky’s hair, carefully working his fingers through sweat-soaked tangles as he found them.

He counted off his breathing--slow inhale for three, hold for three, exhale for three--and kept the pace until he could feel Bucky’s begin to imitate the pattern. Without taking the time to truly think about his actions, Steve tipped his chin until he could press an affectionate kiss against Bucky’s temple. Immediately, he felt his face flush but chose not to verbalize his awkwardness, especially when Bucky stilled for a moment before turning his head to return the affection to Steve’s chest beneath his head. 

Steve didn’t realize that he had fallen asleep until he reopened his eyes, sun shining brightly, only magnified by the thick blanket of snow, proving that it was no longer the middle of the night. He tipped his chin down to see Bucky sleeping soundly against him, as far as he could tell, neither of them had moved at all throughout the night and he certainly couldn’t bring himself to do so now. Instead, he let his hands stroke over Bucky’s back and over his shoulder, memorizing the feel of strong muscle under his palms. 

Bucky stretched sleepily and made a sound that was close enough to a purr that Steve could only smile, hiding the expression against the side of Bucky’s head. “Mornin’ Buck,” he said quietly.

“Mornin’ Stevie,” Bucky mumbled, blinking up at him before letting his eyes close again and trying to snuggle even closer. “S’nice.”

Steve couldn’t help but smile a stupidly besotted smile, grateful that Bucky’s sleepy state meant that it went unnoticed. Unable to resist though, he indulged them both just a little, continuing the slow strokes up and down Bucky’s back soothingly. 

“How’re you feeling?” he asked eventually.

“Raw,” Bucky admitted with a sigh. “But not so bad. This-This helps, I think. Thank you.”

“Anytime,” Steve promised. “Anything I can do, Buck, you know that.”

“Still hard to believe,” Bucky said, but he relaxed fully into Steve’s hold. “But I do. Can even convince myself to believe it some days too.”

“I’ll just keep reminding you until you believe it most days instead of just some,” Steve smiled.

“I know that, too,” Bucky laughed.

“Good,” Steve said, hands stilling to tighten his arms around Bucky in a brief hug before returning to the soothing strokes.

* * *

“Hey Steve,” Bucky called tentatively as he came down the stairs.

Steve immediately looked up from his spot on the couch, wedged comfortably into the corner and away from the book in his lap. The hesitation in Bucky’s voice drew his attention more than even the call of his name. Bucky had slowly but surely began regaining some of his old confidence or at least something similar. The confidence wasn’t the sure-fire cockiness that the Bucky that Steve had grown up with had. It was a quieter version. Steadier. More defined and humbled than he had been as a boy. 

To hear it waver was both curious and concerning. Steve met grey eyes expectantly. “Everything okay, Buck?”

“Yeah,” Bucky said with an easy dismissiveness that went a long way in soothing Steve’s concern. “Just...Think you could do something for me?”

“Anything,” Steve answered promptly and without the slightest reservation. 

Bucky’s brows shot high in surprise at the easy agreement and he ducked his head slightly, huffing a small laugh. “It’s-ah-it’s nothing too exciting. Just...do you think you could,” Bucky winced awkwardly and pushed forward. “I want to cut my hair. Clean it up. I don’t think I could trust anyone else with sharp objects pointed at me.”

It was, apparently, Steve’s turn to feel a jolt of surprise and he was silent for a moment. He cleared his throat softly and set his book down on the table to give Bucky his full attention. “You want me to help?”

“Please,” Bucky said quietly. 

“Whatever you want, Bucky,” Steve assured, pushing off of the couch and approaching. He wrapped an arm around Bucky’s shoulder in a casual comfort that had been entirely familiar once upon a time but was still so new these days. “Now?”

Bucky nodded with a wry smile, leaning into Steve’s side while still holding his body wound tight with tension. “Probably for the best otherwise I might just back out again.”

“Nothing wrong with taking your time with this stuff,” Steve pointed out. 

“It’s not that,” Bucky disagreed. “I want to take this piece back. I _want_ to. And in order to do that I’ve gotta stop letting that paranoia eat away at me.”

Steve studied him for a moment and then smiled with a slow nod. “Lead the way, Buck.”

Bucky pulled a chair from the dining room into the middle of the kitchen while Steve took off up the stairs to gather the necessary supplies. The grooming kit had come along with them from Steve’s apartment, apparently having been a gift from Natalia that Steve had scarcely used. Well, Bucky supposed that if he was really going through with this, the whole thing might see a little more use than it had previously.

Steve came back down the stairs with the kit in his hands and one of their larger towels draped over his arm. He carefully piled everything onto the counter nearest the chair and diverted back to the living room long enough to turn on music only just loud enough to hear even once the trimmers started buzzing. 

Bucky was still standing anxiously next to the chair, not yet having the ability to make himself sit. Steve eyed him for a brief moment before turning his attention to setting up the supplies. Setting the comb down onto the counter before digging the sharp scissors out. The body of the trimmer was placed next to the scissors. Steve studied the variety of guards that had come along with the kit for a moment before selecting the ones that he wanted, setting them next to the trimmer itself.

Watching the process and knowing that Steve was giving him a moment to settle his anxiety helped, maybe more than it ought to. Bucky was fairly certain that this wouldn’t be the first time that Steve had cut his hair. He could vaguely recall times in their youth where a barber was one expense entirely too much and they had relied on one another to keep from getting too scruffy. Bucky could almost feel the distant sensation of fine blond hair between his fingers as he carefully trimmed it up. Neither of them had been professionals at it but they had certainly been well-practiced.

The memory eased some of the remaining tension and Bucky lowered himself into the chair with a quiet sigh. Steve draped the towel around him without much fuss and then spent several long minutes just combing his fingers gently through Bucky’s hair. Bucky felt his eyes droop as he automatically leaned into the careful contact. It felt good and Bucky felt the last of his anxiety seep away and he relaxed fully into the chair.

“There you go,” Steve murmured approvingly though he didn’t stop working his fingers through Bucky’s hair just because he had finally relaxed. He kept it up for a little longer, keeping the motion gentle and steady even as he spoke. “What are you wanting to do with it?”

Bucky shrugged almost lazily. “Shorter. Not like before, not exactly. But something like it maybe? I don’t really care other than that.”

“Sure thing, Buck,” Steve agreed easily. They fell into a comfortable silence as Steve set to work, carefully wetting Bucky’s hair and combing through. The music played quietly in the background, accompanied by the quiet snips of the scissors and the soft sounds of lengths of wet hair dropping to the floor. 

When Steve spoke again, breaking the silence, Bucky could hear a curious smile in his voice. “Maybe without the weight those curls of yours’ll come back.”

“Maybe,” Bucky said with a huff of amusement. “Sure you want to spend the money on all the stuff it takes to tame those?”

“Could just let it curl,” Steve pointed out in an odd tone.

“Looking ridiculous is your job, Rogers,” Bucky snorted.

Steve hummed thoughtfully and swapped the scissors out for the trimmer, snapping on one of the guards before turning it on. Conversation came to a stop for the time being. Bucky relaxed, letting Steve’s careful fingertips move his head into position before running the trimmer over him. More hair fell to the towel and the floor, taking more weight than it should have with it.

It was nearly forty-five minutes later that Steve set the clippers aside and his hands were working back through Bucky’s hair again. Without a mirror, Bucky had no idea what sort of shape his hair might be in but the sensation of Steve’s fingers much closer to the scalp than before let him know that the bulk of his long hair was gone. And then Steve’s fingertips pressed gently into his head and Bucky groaned softly letting his head rest fully into Steve’s hands. Steve made a small sound but his hands stayed steady, fingers working over Bucky’s head and down his neck, carefully working stiffness and tenderness from the muscles.

When Steve’s hands shifted to rest on Bucky’s shoulders, Bucky rested his head back against Steve’s stomach. They should probably get the kitchen cleaned up and Bucky should probably care more about what Steve did to his hair. They don’t. For several long, peaceful minutes they stayed exactly where they were. And then Steve squeezed at his shoulders before he carefully pulled the towel away, gently shaking it out.

“Are you good, Buck?” Steve asked quietly.

“Yeah,” Bucky said, tipping his head back to meet Steve’s eyes. “Yeah, I’m good. Thanks, Steve.”

“Anytime,” he said with a smile. Steve’s expression softened further and he ran his fingers gently through Bucky’s hair once more. “Think it suits you.”

Finally feeling the press of curiosity, Bucky stood from the chair and made his way to the small downstairs bathroom and flicked the light on. It wasn’t Old Bucky but it wasn’t the Winter Soldier either. It was just him. He eyed the longer strands on top wearily. Steve was right, it was already doing its best to curl right up.

“There they are,” Steve said with a fond smile from the doorway, leaning one shoulder casually against the frame.

“There they are,” Bucky agreed although without the same enthusiasm. “Going to have to learn the new stuff they have out now. See what I can do about it.”

“Whatever you want Buck,” Steve said but there was something slightly off about his tone. 

Bucky met his eyes briefly in the mirror before turning to face him fully. “But?”

“But nothing. It’s yours, so it’s whatever _you_ want,” Steve said immediately and firmly. He hesitated for a moment and pulled his eyes from Bucky’s and looked around the bathroom with a sense of forced idleness. Bucky eyed the pinkening tinge to Steve’s ears and settled in to wait him out, curious of what was going on in Steve’s mind. Steve cleared his throat awkwardly. “Could just let it curl though, if you wanted.”

Bucky tilted his head to the side, unsure why the suggestion was drawing the reaction that it was. Then it dawned and Bucky had to tamp down on the smug smirk that attempted to work its way onto his face. He closed the small space between them and eyed Steve for a moment, watching the pink flush move from his neck and ears to his cheeks and nose. 

“You could’ve just said that you like the curls,” Bucky teased.

The blush didn’t fade but Steve laughed softly and shifted his stance. With only a beat of hesitation, Steve brought his hand up fingers combing through the same way he had in the kitchen while Bucky stood still and let him. Even the pinkened tinge to his face didn't detract from the all too soft and fond expression that Bucky spotted when he automatically leaned into the touch. Bucky couldn’t help it though. He hadn’t realized how much he had missed the gentle contact until Steve had eased back into the old habit. Now, Bucky soaked it up as much as he was allowed. 

Steve let his hand drop back to his side after a moment and ducked his head. “Always did,” he admitted.

It took a moment for the statement to connect with the rest of the conversation in Bucky’s mind. When it did, he felt his smile soften. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Steve nodded, watching him closely. “There were days back in the old apartment before you left that I was tempted to get rid of that stuff you put in your hair. If it weren’t for how much it cost, I might’ve.” He paused consideringly and shuffled slightly closer. 

Bucky laughed and shifted to look in the mirror one more time. Out of habit, one both old and new, he leaned slightly into Steve as he carefully considered the new haircut. After a moment he hummed thoughtfully. “So let it go crazy, huh?” He tilted his head and eyed the way his hair was already attempting to curl chaotically and grinned. “You got it, Stevie.”

* * *

They didn’t head back into the city very often. Or at least Bucky didn’t. Steve had gotten into the routine of going to Avengers Tower at least once a month to visit with his team and to catch up on anything that he might have missed. He generally came back home with whatever upgrades or modifications Tony had come up with and plenty of amusing tales or exasperated grumbles--usually at Tony’s expense--to share with Bucky. 

While he was there, Steve would also usually stop at one of the larger grocery stores and do their grocery shopping to last until the next time he came into town. Which, considering that he was buying for two supersoldier metabolisms, was quite a shopping trip, no matter how they looked at it. It didn’t seem to bother Steve in the least that he was giving into enabling every excuse that Bucky could possibly come up with to avoid returning to the screaming chaos of the city. Maybe Steve knew that Bucky just wasn’t ready to try to face it yet, that he didn’t quite trust himself or his reactions. 

So for Bucky, this was the first time since they had moved into their house from DC that he had gone anywhere more populated than the tiny little town grocers when they ran low on one of the staples. Because, despite the fact that Steve offered each and every time for Bucky to join him for one of the trips, this had been the first time Bucky had agreed. 

He was buckled into the passenger seat, Queenie in the seat behind him. Bucky could hear her sniffing loudly, nose sticking out of the two-inch gap at the top of the window where he had lowered it for her. Steve had left the radio off, knowing how close to overstimulating the added noise could get when already feeling all too anxious.

Steve glanced across briefly before looking back ahead at the road. He reached over the center console, his hand folding over Bucky’s and squeezing lightly. As always, Bucky found himself momentarily stunned at the contact, though he knew that by now maybe he shouldn’t be. Steve had always been the tactile sort and that clearly hadn’t changed. Bucky let his metal fingers curl inward, closing around Steve’s fingers and holding firm, letting the contact help to ground him. 

“So, what’s the plan when we’re there?” Bucky asked, hesitantly. 

“The last few times, we’ve either watched a movie or jumped in on a card game,” Steve answered easily, perhaps understanding that it helped sometimes to go into something unfamiliar with something of a plan in place. Something to expect. “Nat said that Clint’s demanding a rematch from when we played poker last time, so I think that’s on the ticket for today. We usually order in. It’s easier that way than trying to cook for all of us. Tony said he’s got a couple things he’s been working on down in his lab, I imagine that I’ll be dragged down there at some point. You should come too, though. I think you’d like meeting the bots.”

Steve carried on the chatter the rest of the drive, his hand never leaving Bucky’s for more than a few seconds at a time before returning to its previous position. It helped. A lot, if Bucky was honest. Between the contact, the steady conversation and the continued presence of Queenie just behind him, Bucky could feel his unease begin to fade. It didn’t go away entirely and Bucky sincerely doubted that it ever would, but it did settle into something more manageable. He could and did trust Steve to have his back and that was exactly what Steve was attempting to do by distracting him from his anxieties.

It wasn’t the longest drive Bucky had ever been on and traffic had, surprisingly, cooperated for the most part at least, so it was with good timing that Steve turned into an alley a few blocks from the Tower and followed a series of gates and tunnels until they reached the secured garage that only Tony and the Avengers had direct access to. Steve pulled carefully into one of the free parking spaces and turned off the engine.

“Ready?” he asked with a small smile.

“As I’m gonna be.” Bucky nodded, pushing his door open and stretching before letting Queenie out. She was immediately distracted, sniffing everything in sight, tail wagging happily at the new place to explore. She obediently stayed by Bucky’s side as they followed Steve to the elevator.

“Good morning, Captain Rogers,” an accented voice greeted as the elevator doors closed behind them. “To the communal floor, I presume?”

“Good morning, JARVIS,” Steve greeted in return. “Are the others there already?”

“Misters Stark and Banner have been delayed,” JARVIS responded. “Ms Romanov, and Misters Wilson and Barton are on the communal floor, however.”

“The common floor is fine, JARVIS, thank you,” Steve responded, leaning against the elevator wall as the elevator began to move upward.

“JARVIS is Tony’s AI, right?” Bucky asked, thinking over the many conversations between both he and Steve and the handful he had with Tony. He leaned against the wall, as near to Steve as he could, watching Queenie investigate the car curiously.

“Oh, right. I’m sorry, Buck,” Steve winced guilitly. “Yes, JARVIS is the Tower’s AI. JARVIS, did Tony remember to update you on Bucky?”

“No, sir,” JARVIS’s voice responded, dryly. “However, Ms Potts and Ms Romanov have ensured that all systems recognize Sergeant Barnes directly following your move from Washington D.C.”

Steve snorted in amusement. “Of course they did. Thank you, JARVIS.”

“You are welcome, sir.”

When the elevator came to a stop and the doors opened, Steve guided Bucky from the car with a hand resting lightly on his low back. Bucky wasn’t entirely surprised at the sleek and classy looking layout of the space. It was just about everything that he might have thought something owned by Tony Stark would look like. What _was_ slightly unexpected, however, was the sudden amount of volume that reached them as soon as the doors opened, followed immediately by the rich smell of whatever it was that happened to be cooking.

“Alright, fellas, we gotta keep it clean now, Cap’s here,” Natalia’s voice carried teasingly.

“Fuck off, Romanov,” Steve shot back with a lazy grin, not even bothering to withdraw his hand. Instead he uses the gentle pressure to nudge Bucky forward and to the large table where Clint, Sam, and Natalia were already hanging out.

“Still no word when Thor’s going to be back around?” Steve asked, mild disappointment evident in his tone.

“Bruce apparently heard from him the other day,” Natalia shrugged. “He’s got some things that he needs to take care of before he heads back this way.”

“Suppose we’ll see him when we see him then,” Steve said with a sigh. He seemed to quickly shake off whatever lingering disappointment he might have had and smiled warmly again. “What’s the plan for tonight?”

“The _plan_ is to kick your ass in cards,” Clint interjected. “I still say that you cheated. You owe me a rematch, Rogers.”

“I did not cheat!” Steve denied immediately. Bucky felt his muscles relax, tension leaving him as the friendly banter continued and washed over him. Though he startled slightly when Steve’s arm shifted from where his hand had gently rested against Bucky’s back to drape across his shoulders, seemingly without thought. 

Bucky hesitated at the contact and made the mistake of catching Natalia’s eye. She settled back into her chair, feet propped at an almost awkward angle on the table, with a smirk. She arched her brow and tilted her head pointedly and Bucky huffed a laugh and nodded once, allowing himself to lean into Steve’s side.

Eventually, Tony and Bruce surfaced from whatever project they had been working on, food was served. Or, self-served, but that's besides the point. Bucky couldn’t quite tell what it was supposed to be, culinary arts had never been high on Hydra’s training requirements after all, but it was delicious. As soon as plates were filled--or refilled in he and Steve’s case--cards were dealt. 

Bucky didn’t and wouldn’t say a word, but it really was an unfair fight--which, frankly, a _fight_ was exactly what an Avengers game night apparently turned out to be--considering that none of them seemed to realize that Steve Rogers was a shark and had been since the 30’s. And somehow Steve managed to reinforce the team’s belief, playing clueless and distracting with Steve Rogers-Typical shit talk while raking them over the whole time. 

It was _loud_ and very, very competitive. He had more than once questioned whether food was about to go flying. Natalia had tipped to the side at one point and muttered a quiet “Don’t worry, Barnes, this is normal.”

Bucky just laughed. “I’m not worried. It’s good to see him let go like this again.”

“Yeah,” she agreed softly. “There for a while, I didn’t think we’d ever get to see it.”

Bucky eyed her for a moment, considering his words carefully before speaking. “I’m glad you got out. That you got to have this. That you guys got each other.”

She met his eyes with an unreadable expression for a long moment before she relaxed and offered a small smile. “Yeah, me too. Now quit trying to distract me. I want to see how long it takes them to figure out Steve’s play.”

“You guys used to do these game nights regularly?” Bucky asked, entirely unsurprised that she had already caught on.

“Weekly for nearly a year,” Natasha confirmed. “Why?”

“Twenty says it’ll be another year before any of them catch on,” he smirked. 

“Six months,” she countered thoughtfully.

“Look forward to accepting your payment.” Bucky grinned, relaxing into his chair. “He’s good. Most folks don’t figure it out until after they’re told.”

“Ten says Banner already knows and just hasn’t said anything,” Natasha added critically.

“Another ten that Stark blames his AI for not giving fair warning,” Bucky suggested.

“No way,” She scoffed. “Too easy. C’mon Barnes, try harder.”

He laughed and shrugged when she smirked. “Alright, alright. Ten says Steve’ll be giving lessons within a month of them finding out.”

“Try a week,” she countered easily.

“Should I be concerned?” Steve interjected in a low voice. Bucky glanced over and caught him eyeing Bucky and Nat with fond amusement. 

“You sure you want me to answer that question, Rogers?” Nat asked with a coy smirk.

“Probably better for my sanity if you don’t,” Steve admitted, grinning brightly. Bucky felt a warm hand squeeze his knee under the table affectionately and Steve easily turned his attention back to the game.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky’s door was open as he passed so Steve didn’t bother knocking, instead Bucky met him by the front door. Their rooms were close enough and Bucky’s hearing was sharp enough that he would have heard the alert and the call come through. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more chapter! We are almost there!
> 
> I hope you have (or have had) a great Sunday!

Steve was awoken around three in the morning by the familiar ringtone that was only ever used for truly urgent missions, the first call he had gotten since he and Bucky had the house. Steve had answered as he quickly pulled his stealth suit on and fastened all the catches. Natasha had briefed him of a heavily armed hostage situation that their presence had been called in for and told him that a quinjet would be there in ten. Steve quickly laced his boots, careful to tuck the laces--wouldn’t  _ that _ be embarrassing? Tripping over his own boot laces in the middle of a fight--and quickly left his room. 

Bucky’s door was open as he passed so Steve didn’t bother knocking, instead Bucky met him by the front door. Their rooms were close enough and Bucky’s hearing was sharp enough that he would have heard the alert and the call come through. Steve wasn’t surprised to find him waiting though it did kick up flutters beneath his sternum at the idea of it. Bucky eyed him intently before approaching and tugging the shield’s harness over his shoulders and fastening it with precise movements. He didn’t say a word when he circled Steve, snagging the shield from it’s hidden compartment near the door--Bucky’s idea that Steve hadn’t been able to deny, as usual--and attaching it seamlessly to Steve’s back. 

There was something intensely...intimate about Bucky meeting him at the door to see him off on a mission. About the way he was essentially dressing him in such a carefully meticulous way. Bucky’s eyes were attentively on his hands as they buckled, fastened, and attached but Steve couldn’t pull his own off of Bucky’s face, not until he had circled behind to set the shield into the harness. 

From the doorway, Queenie tilted her head and whined in confusion and Steve knelt to give her a few affectionate strokes. He had been off the mission list for long enough that the poor girl had no idea what was happening or why he was dressed in such odd clothing. Steve couldn’t help but smile at the dog’s confusion. Rising back to his feet he smiled softly at Bucky.

“Nat doesn’t think it should take long,” Steve said gently. “They need the help though, looks like it might be a rough one. I’ll be home as soon as I can.”

“I know you will,” Bucky replied with quiet confidence that made Steve’s heart ache. “Just make sure you come home in one piece.”

_ Home. _

Despite having lived in the house, basically remoulding it until it was something undeniably  _ theirs,  _ Steve couldn’t help the warm flush that came over him, just hearing Bucky refer to it as home, as  _ their  _ home...and asking him to come home safe. God, it was almost more than Steve could bear to walk away from, even for a short while. It was everything he had known he had wanted since they were boys but never dreamed he would ever be allowed to have. And yet, here they were.

“Will do,” Steve grinned, unable to tamp down the rising emotion combined with a heavy dose of pre-op adrenaline. He hesitated, forcing back the urge to lean in and steal a goodbye kiss. That wasn’t his to take but damned if it wouldn’t make this decades old dream come true as perfect as it could possibly be. “You know Nat and Sam won’t let me take too many risks.”

Bucky snorted and they both fell silent at the familiar sound of a quinjet landing outside. “Be safe, Stevie.”

Steve hesitated again before giving in and tugging Bucky into a firm hug that was immediately returned, “I will. Be back before you know it. Don’t forget, you get Queenie’s morning runs until I’m back.”

“Yeah, I can take care of Queenie,” Bucky said quietly. “You just worry about yourself.”

Steve nodded and withdrew from the hug and Bucky stepped back to stand beside Queenie. With a wave and a grin, Steve quickly ducked out of the house, taking a moment to shake his head at how odd it was to see a quinjet parked in his front yard. Almost absently, he thought that maybe they ought to plan the garden around that. No sense having Nat or Clint accidentally landing in Bucky’s squash. Would Bucky even grow squash?

_ That _ had been eight days ago.

Eight days since he promised Bucky that he would be careful and boarded the quinjet on the way to a hostile situation that had been dangerous enough to have required the entire Avengers team. 

As it turned out, it hadn’t been quite as straightforward as Natasha had been led to believe. It  _ had _ been an armed hostage situation but it had also been a very hostile coup that  _ someone  _ had failed to warn them about. The heavy arms happened to be a combination of knock-off Iron Man tech, alien tech, and various large and small arms. Not to mention the  _ minor  _ explosion that had taken a building to the ground. That Steve just so happened to have been in when the bomb went off. That had  _ just so happened  _ to be heavily televised. 

Steve was sore and exhausted by the time Clint had landed the quinjet in nearly the exact place he had landed when picking Steve up but he knew that rest wasn’t on his docket for the day. Not if Bucky had been following the news, which Steve knew without a doubt he had been because  _ he  _ was involved and there was next to no chance that Bucky  _ wouldn’t  _ have been closely monitoring the situation. Steve winced as he descended the ramp from the jet. 

He wasn’t surprised in the least that Bucky wasn’t at the bottom of the ramp. Steve waved half-heartedly as Clint took off and tugged at his gloves as he approached the house. The door wasn’t locked, which was good, he wasn’t in  _ that _ much trouble to be sleeping in the barn that they hadn’t gotten around to building yet. He pushed through the door tiredly, dropping his gloves on the entry table. He didn’t bother dropping the shield yet, it and his entire uniform would need to be thoroughly washed before being put away. Instead, he groaned quietly and leaned back against the door, just grateful, for the moment, to be  _ home. _

Steve glanced over to find Bucky sitting at the counter, coffee seemingly untouched in front of him. Queenie, who had been laying at Bucky’s feet, was across the kitchen in an instant, barking and whining with her tail wagging hard enough that it caused her entire body to wag. Steve grinned and lifted her off the floor, petting her soft fur while she wiggled in his hold and licked at his face. At least  _ someone _ would be happy to see him home safe. 

He carefully lowered Queenie back to her feet and smiled tiredly across the room where Bucky was glaring at him, “Hey Buck. Made it home. In one piece even.”

“Not for lack of trying,” Bucky frowned, though Steve could hear at least a hint of relief under the muttered reprimand. Yeah, Bucky had definitely been keeping an eye on the situation. “What the  _ hell _ were you thinkin’ Steve?”

“Ah, which part?” Steve winced guilitly.

“Oh, I don’t know,” Bucky said sarcastically. “I know they’ve all chewed your ass about the whole jumping out of planes without a goddamned parachute. So I won’t waste my breath. How ‘bout we talk about running into buildings that you know are rigged to blow?”

“There were still hostages inside,” Steve countered calmly. “Tony was the only other one that had a chance of getting them out and he was occupied. I wasn’t about to lose twenty people just because of some minor risk to myself, Buck.”

“Minor risk?” Bucky repeated, tone flat and without any sort of telling inflection. “Yeah, sure, having a building come down on your head is a minor risk. Okay, how about drawing all of those assholes’ attention just on yourself? How about that?”

“They were overwhelming Nat thinkin’ she was an easy mark,” Steve replied. “Having their focus on me meant that Nat, Sam, and Clint had better shots at picking them off. I’m a big target, Bucky. It was a sound decision.” Steve pointedly did not mention that Nat and Sam had both,  _ separately  _ even, already chewed him out  _ in depth _ over that particular move. Though, the look on Bucky’s face said that he already knew.

Oh, Steve had really, really hoped that Bucky hadn’t suddenly gotten over his hesitation and discomfort of Nat and Sam just to check in on him. That definitely wouldn’t bode well. 

“And putting yourself in front of a high caliber bullet, that was a sound decision too?” Bucky asked, almost condescendingly. And well, there went the hope that Bucky hadn’t been talking to  _ someone _ on the team. Jury was out on which of his teammates sold him out but Steve had his guesses.

“They were tryin’ to shoot Sam and Tony out of the air,” Steve defended. “I can take a hell of a lot more damage than either of them.”

“I happen to know for a fact that Tony’s suit is made to take heavy weapon’s fire,” Bucky countered. “Wilson...I’ll grant you that one, he’s a real pretty target for any marksman worth his salt. Still don’t see why you didn’t just disable the weapon. I know you know how.  _ I _ taught you.”

“There wasn’t time,” Steve muttered, moving further into the kitchen, opening the refrigerator and snatching a bottle of water from the shelf. He eyed the leftover lasagna and sighed. He needed a shower and a change of clothes before eating was a practical concern. His stomach protested and Steve quickly closed the door to block out the sight. 

“You didn’t eat the entire goddamn time either, did you?” Bucky asked, eyes narrowed. 

“I ate a couple rations,” Steve shrugged evasively.

“Damnit, Steve,” Bucky sighed. When he continued his voice continually raised and strained with each question. “Is it really too much to ask of you to keep yourself in one piece? To be  _ safe? _ All of these risks you take, all of these things you step into to keep your team safe, and you don’t think to do the same for yourself? I  _ know _ Wilson and Natalia have gotten on you about it. I’d be willing to bet this entire goddamned property that Stark has too. When  _ Tony Stark _ is getting on you about reckless decisions? You better believe you’re doing something fucking stupid.”

“Hey,” Steve frowned, shoulders squaring and jaw setting in indignant anger at the onslaught. “I do what I have to do to keep  _ my team _ safe. I do what is tactically the best possible option to get us through each and every situation. If that means I take a couple hits that I’d rather not? Then that’s what it takes, Buck. I’m always gonna do what it takes to keep them safe. That’s my fucking team. My  _ family  _ just as much as you are. I’ll  _ always _ take the hits for you or for them. That’s not something that’s negotiable.”

“And it doesn’t matter that we don’t  _ want  _ you to take those hits for us?” Bucky countered. “What happens when one of those hits gets lucky and actually  _ kills  _ you Steve? What then?”

“Then I take something that would’ve killed any one of you,” Steve said stubbornly. “If it’s something capable of taking me, of beating the serum, then it’s something that they wouldn’t have stood a chance against. I’d do the same. Every time. Don’t think I wouldn’t Bucky. Don’t ask me not to.”

“What about the rest of us?” Bucky scowled. “You go on about taking those hits. D’you ever stop to think about  _ us? _ D’you ever stop to fucking think about the ones watching you take those hits?”

“If it means you, any of you, make it then I’ll take my licks after Buck,” Steve said evenly.

Bucky growled and pushed away from the counter, striding toward Steve in what could only be called a predator’s stalk, Steve struggled hard to remember that he really wasn’t supposed to be getting turned on by Bucky chewing him out. But angry-Bucky had always been quite the sight. “You fucking asshole,” he snarled. “You don’t fucking think that it just might kill me one of these days to see you to take one of those hits? You don’t fucking  _ think.  _ Do you? It’s all Steve, Steve, Steve. What Steve wants. What Steve  _ doesn’t _ fucking want. What about the rest of us, Steve? What about the fucking rest of us?”

“Buck,” Steve sighed. “That’s not it at all. I mean, yeah, I don’t want someone else to take a hit that would be fatal when I could take it and be down for a coupla days at best. But it’s not like...I’m not itching to take the hits I mean I--”

“You what?” Bucky asked, voice low and serious, picking up on the hitch in Steve's voice when he cut himself off.

Steve sighed and hung his head before pulling his shoulders back and meeting Bucky’s eyes evenly, “I don’t have a death wish, Bucky. I don’t go into fights hoping to take a fatal hit...Anymore.”

“Anymore?” Bucky repeated, sounding vaguely choked.

“Putting the plane down,” Steve grimaced and shifted his gaze to trace the woodgrain of the kitchen floor and then raised them again. “When I first came out of the ice? Sure. I wasn’t aiming to play it safe then either. I wasn’t aiming to stick around longer than necessary.” Steve swallowed thickly around the heavy sitting emotion seeming to lodge in his throat. “But my team? Meeting them, it couldn’t’ve come at a better time. They’re...they’re  _ family,  _ Buck. As much as you’ve always been, as my ma was. They’re  _ mine.  _ Maybe even more than the Howlies ever were. And then...and then you came back to me. A-And...yes, my recklessness early on...it wasn’t anywhere near self-preservation and I know it. I can see it, in hindsight.”

Steve dropped his shoulders and sighed heavily, “But you gotta know, I’d take every hit if it kept you from taking it. I’d take every blow for Clint, Nat, Tony, Sam...maybe not Thor because he can take even more than I can. But I’d take it. I don’t want to lose more, Buck. I’ll take it all just to not have to lose anymore.”

“But what about me, Steve?” Bucky said quietly, hauntedly. “How am I supposed to sit back and watch that? Watch you take hit after hit on global news. Watch you take what would destroy anyone else? Wondering if you’re gonna come home. You can’t do that to me Steve. You got your team. I got you.”

Steve sighed and approached hesitantly, resting his hands on Bucky’s shoulders and squeezing gently before tugging him forward into a tight hug. Bucky’s arms wrapped almost bruisingly tight around Steve’s waist but Steve couldn’t bring himself to care about his protesting ribs, his own arms coiling around Bucky’s shoulders and holding just as tight. “I’m not tryin’ to leave you, Buck. I’m doing my damndest not to. I’m gonna come home.”

Bucky’s arms tightened and Steve did his best to tamp down the hitched breath caused by the pressure on his still-tender ribs. He ought to have known he couldn’t hide such a thing from Bucky. Bucky drew back, studying his expression thoroughly for a brief moment before carefully detaching each and every catch to the upper half of Steve’s harness and uniform, setting the shield to lean against the cabinets, still attached to the harness. Steve let the top of his uniform fall heavily to the kitchen floor and held his arms out. 

“See, all in one piece,” he murmured reassuringly, watching Bucky’s expression as mismatched hands carefully traced over the still darkly bruised but otherwise unmarked skin of his abdomen where he had taken the shot meant to knock Sam out of the air. Steve was grateful on multiple fronts that it had been small caliber. 

“You can’t keep doin’ that Steve,” Bucky insisted.

“I can’t not look out for my team,” Steve argued.

“I’m not asking you to,” Bucky said, firmly, grey eyes meeting Steve’s evenly. “I’m askin’ you to be more careful.”

“I’d do the same for you.”

“I wouldn’t want you to,” Bucky snarled.

“I’m okay, Bucky,” Steve soothed. “Really. A day or two and there won’t be anything left.” Steve watched him closely, the concern Bucky had shown since his return twisting something affectionate in his chest. Making him want to ensure his well-being. “I’ll be right back to taking Queenie out by morning. And they shouldn’t need me again for a while. Just you and me.”

Something he said must have been just right because suddenly Bucky’s lips were on his. And oh, he had been thinking and dreaming and imagining it for years and years. Nothing that his mind dreamt up or created was comparable to the actual feel of kissing Bucky Barnes. Steve groaned low in his chest and his hands clamped at Bucky’s waist as Bucky’s hands framed his face. It was as chaste as it was intense, an insistent press of lips on lips and Steve groaned lowly into the affection, nearly overwhelmed by sensation and feeling. 

Suddenly, Steve felt the kitchen counter dig into his low back--apparently  _ that _ as bruised too, good to know--as Bucky pressed firmly against his front. Bucky tore his lips away far enough to be able to meet Steve’s eyes, “You can’t leave me. Not now. Please.”

“Don’t want to, Buck,” Steve murmured lowly, hands tugging Bucky as close as possible, unwilling to give up even an inch of contact now that he had it, now that he was seemingly allowed it. “Don’t want to.”

“Bring me on,” Bucky insisted, eyes deadly serious. “Barton could use backup and I’m a damned good sniper. Fuck, Steve, you gotta let me have your back.”

“I’ll bring it up with the team,” Steve promised, thrown slightly when he was speaking the words against Bucky’s lips. Steve let himself give into the temptation and dipped forward to catch Bucky’s lips with his own, unable to stop the shaky moan that worked its way out of him when he opened under the insistent sweep of Bucky’s tongue, curling and teasing against his own. He gathered what remained of his self-control and withdrew. “Buck. Bucky,” he breathed. “This isn’t--Please tell me this isn’t gonna disappear in the morning.”

“Not a chance,” Bucky murmured. He pulled back further, ignoring Steve’s small sound of protest and grey eyes meeting his own steadily. “Been gone on you for too damned long to let go now.”

“Yeah?” Steve asked, suddenly feeling breathless when Bucky’s words fully registered. 

Bucky studied him silently for a moment and then gave a single slow nod. “Go get cleaned up,” he instructed softly. “I’ll get somethin’ heated up for you. Think talking can wait till you’re feeling a little more human and I want to check over some of those injuries anyway.”

Steve exhaled shakily but nodded in acceptance of the directions, reluctantly dropping his hands when Bucky took a measured step back. He pushed himself upright away from the counter, Bucky’s hands flying up to steady him when he swayed slightly, exhaustion making its presence known. Rather than pointing it out or using the obvious strain to drive his point home, Bucky tugged his arm across his shoulder and tucked against Steve’s side. It was slow and unsteady but Bucky patiently helped him through the house and up the stairs to the bathroom. 

“Are you steady enough for a shower, Stevie?” Bucky asked quietly after he deposited him on the closed lid of the toilet seat. 

“I’ll be okay, Buck,” Steve reassured, leaning forward unsteadily to begin unlacing his boots.

“That’s not what I asked, punk,” Bucky chided, nudging at his shoulders until Steve slowly sat upright again. Bucky huffed a small laugh and crouched in front of him, making quick work of the boot laces, tugging them off of his feet and tossing them out of the bathroom before doing the same with his socks. He rocked back on his heels, meeting Steve’s eyes evenly. “Do you need help, Steve? ‘Cause where I’m sitting you’re just as likely to fall asleep standing as you are anything else.”

Steve felt himself flush slightly at the thought of Bucky helping him bathe. Objectively, he knew it wouldn’t be the first time. There were dozens of examples in their youth when Steve was too ill to take care of himself so Bucky ended up doing it for him. Even in more recent memory, during some of Bucky’s rougher patches when he couldn’t put an ounce of care into looking after himself, Steve had sat Bucky down in the bathroom and taken a gentle rag over his skin, brushed his hair and so on and hadn’t felt the least bit of embarrassment. But somehow this felt different.

He was drawn from his contemplation by a firm hand on the back of his neck and Steve blinked his eyes open to meet familiar grey ones. He hadn’t even been aware that he had closed them, which was indicative of his exhausted state, he thought. Bucky sighed softly and shook his head, “I'm not comfortable leaving you alone like this Stevie.”

“Yeah,” Steve hesitantly agreed. “Maybe skip the shower tonight.”

“You sure?” Bucky asked, eyeing him speculatively. “Think you’d feel a hell of a lot better getting the grime off of you.”

“Can’t ask you to do that, Buck,” Steve disagreed.

“You’re not asking,” Bucky countered. “I’m offerin’. Do you wanna get clean or not?”

Steve grimaced slightly as he took stock of his body. Eight days of sweat, grime and blood--some of his own, some not--was caked on him and he knew that he probably smelled just as bad. He cringed at the idea of tracking all that into his bed. “Yeah,” he sighed. “Yeah, I feel pretty gross.”

“I bet you do, doll,” Bucky laughed softly. Despite his exhaustion, Steve couldn’t help the jolt he felt at the nickname. Bucky gripped Steve’s wrists and tugged him to his feet. Steve braced his balance with a hand planted against the wall as Bucky carefully unfastened his tac pants and helped him out of them, tossing them to the side to join his boots and socks. Steve sat back down heavily, left just in his boxers while Bucky started the shower. Steve felt his eyes widen in surprise when Bucky didn’t hesitate a beat before tugging his own shirt up over his head and tossing it to join the growing pile in the hallway. 

“What are you doing?” Steve asked, blinking in confusion but unable to pull his eyes away.

Bucky shrugged and thumbed open the button to his jeans, “Makin’ sure you don’t falling asleep in the shower and end up knocking your head or some shit.” Bucky glanced up and Steve's lingering confusion must have been written on his face because Bucky rolled his eyes. “I’m going in with you, Steve.”

“Oh,” Steve blinked, swallowing thickly and feeling his face heat at the prospect. Bucky snorted in amusement as he shed his jeans and boxers in one go before reaching to help Steve back to his feet. Steve shakily rid himself of his own boxers and let Bucky lead him into the large shower, suddenly grateful that they had completed the renovations on both bathrooms already. This wouldn’t have been remotely possible with the original layout. 

Bucky was gentle but thorough in washing him head to toe. Fingers scratching against his scalp and firm sweeps with the washcloth over his body. It had been ages since Steve could remember being touched and treated so carefully and it brought a pleasant buzz to his mind. For all his initial hesitation to allow Bucky to help him, Steve found himself going willingly pliant the very moment Bucky first touched him to angle his head under the spray to better wet his hair. 

Steve blinked in confusion when the water turned off and Bucky wrapped a soft towel around him. He thought that he must have dozed slightly, lulled into a sense of peace at the comfort of touch and warmth of the water. He stumbled a little when Bucky urged him out of the shower but Bucky was there to steady him. He let his head drop against Bucky’s shoulder as the towel was rubbed over his hair and then wrapped snugly around his waist. 

He tilted his head slightly when cool metal fingers scratched softly through his wet hair. “You okay, Stevie?” Bucky asked softly. Steve managed a hum and a nod and Bucky chuckled softly in his ear. “Should probably get you dressed and fed, huh doll? Doubt you managed to eat a whole lot while takin’ down a coup.”

“I s’pose,” Steve mumbled, sighing and reluctantly pulling his head away from the warm curve of Bucky’s shoulder.

“C’mon,” Bucky urged, arm snug around his waist and guiding him out of the bathroom, mindful of the pile of discarded clothing still in the hallway. He led him to his bedroom and deposited him on the bed. Steve hovered seated upright for a moment before falling back against the comfort of the mattress. Despite the clawing exhaustion, Steve watched Bucky pick his way through the room, going over to the dresser and digging around until he found a soft pair of sleep pants and a second pair for himself. He nudged the drawer closed again and paused long enough to pull the spare pair up over his own hips, then approaching Steve’s sprawled form with a soft expression.

“You’re pretty beat, aren’t you?” he chuckled, crouching again to work the pants up Steve’s legs, pausing until Steve lifted his hips enough to tug them up the rest of the way. Bucky settled next to him on the bed. “Haven’t seen you this rough in a long time, Stevie. Want to just sleep and double up on breakfast?”

Steve considered the idea for a moment. He was hungry and he knew he would heal quicker if he got some proper food in his system. But it just sounded like so much more effort than he was capable of at the moment. Sluggishly, he reached out a hand to Bucky, tugging slightly on his arm.

“Yeah, I got you Stevie,” Bucky agreed. “Everything else can wait a coupla hours.” With that Bucky nudged him further up onto the bed, tugging the blanket out from beneath him. Steve tried to hang onto consciousness, wanting more of that soft, soft time with Bucky that he had spent  _ years _ aching for. Unfortunately, his body won out and he drifted almost immediately to sleep.

Given the intensity of the mission, Steve wasn’t the least bit surprised when, despite his exhaustion, his sleep that night was anything but peaceful. If his body would have allowed it, he probably wouldn’t have bothered even trying to sleep. As it was, he was still recovering from the various injuries and hadn’t had much opportunity to rest while he was away which meant that whether he wanted it or not, sleep was necessary. 

Nightmares had become a fairly regular occurrence in their home. It wasn’t every night for either of them. They were somewhat infrequent and mostly unpredictable but utterly devastating and overwhelming for whichever man happened to be the unlucky sufferer on any given night. It had become a new normal for Steve to wake in Bucky’s bed with Bucky held tight against him or in his own with Bucky doing the holding. Some nights, neither of them would bother with trying to sleep, instead ending up side-by-side or lying stretched out on the couch together, staring silently into the crackling fireplace. 

Come morning, no matter which scenario they happened to find themselves waking to, they didn’t quite ignore it but they didn’t exactly discuss it either. Steve wasn’t sure which was better. He didn’t particularly want to talk about his nightmares, though he knew that he would if Bucky asked, but he had wished that they didn’t have to go back to normal when they crawled out of whichever bed they happened to end up in. That he might be able to hold or be held without one of them having to fall apart first. 

But that particular morning, it wasn’t  _ just  _ nightmares that had Steve waking again in his own room with familiar arms holding onto him and a familiar heartbeat under his ear. Before he even opened his eyes, Steve could tell that Bucky was already awake, could feel the weight of his gaze as surely as he felt the comforting weight of Bucky’s body against his own, stretched as they were on their sides facing each other.

“Mornin’ Buck,” Steve mumbled sleepily without bothering to open his eyes just yet. He tipped his head back just far enough to speak the words unmuffled without losing any of the much desired contact.

“Morning Stevie,” Bucky returned quietly, hand moving in a firm sweep over Steve’s back. “How’re you feelin’?”

Steve hummed, groggily taking stock of his body and the injuries he got throughout the previous week. “Still tender,” he admitted. “Sleep helped a lot though.”

“I’m sure you’ll nap after you eat and the rest’ll be gone in a few days,” Bucky said thoughtfully, the slow strokes over Steve’s back continued as he spoke.

Steve smiled and arched slightly into the touch, swallowing hesitantly and hoping he remembered the previous night as clearly and accurately as he hoped he did. He blinked his eyes open until they focused well enough for Steve to find Bucky’s face just above his own. Their gazes met for a brief moment before Steve steeled his nerves and leaned in, pressing a tentative kiss to Bucky’s lips.

Bucky’s breath hitched slightly as though surprised but his lips parted easily under Steve’s gentle prodding and Steve shifted closer to Bucky as they tentatively tasted and explored, learning this new aspect of each other. This new shift in their relationship. Bucky didn’t break the kiss as he rolled them until Steve was laying flat on the mattress with Bucky leaning over him, propped up on his left elbow while his right hand explored Steve’s chest and torso with just as much curiosity as his tongue explored Steve’s mouth. His touch gentled over the colorful bruising still mottled Steve’s skin but didn’t avoid it. Maybe he was taking stock as much as he was exploring.

There was part of Steve that was still uncertain, unconvinced that he was actually allowed to have this now. That it wasn’t going to be like the nightmare-related cuddles, regulated to the bad nights and all but forgotten after it was over. If that’s what it was though, if that’s what Steve had, he knew he could be okay with it. Bucky was here and Bucky was happy and healing, what more could Steve really ask for?

That didn’t mean he wasn’t going to soak up whatever little bit of this he was allowed. Whatever this was, whatever it was going to be, he was content to leave the pace and direction in Bucky’s hands. Just like he had with nearly every choice and decision he had willingly given up to Bucky since they moved into the house. Satisfied with his decision, Steve focused his attention fully back on the feel of Bucky’s lips on his, the sweet taste of his mouth under Steve’s tongue, and the warm pressure of his hand against Steve’s skin.

Steve's body automatically adjusted to having Bucky stretched over him the way that he was. He lifted his knees, bending them and planting his feet on the mattress as Bucky seamlessly settled between them. He hesitated uncertainly before letting his hands free of his nervous mental constraints. The skin of Bucky’s waist was warm under his fingers and Steve found that he couldn’t quite resist tracing over the smooth lines of muscle and bone, finding unnamable satisfaction when Bucky shivered slightly at his touch.

Bucky’s curious fingers ghosted lightly over his nipple and Steve shuddered, gasping into the kiss. He could feel Bucky smile against his lips and his thumb returned to flick lightly back and forth over the tightening peak, his tongue sweeping into Steve’s mouth to steal away whatever noises Steve might have made in response. When Steve’s hips automatically rocked up into Bucky’s at the stimulation, both men shuddered and groaned, Steve’s thighs automatically tightening against Bucky’s hips and his fingers digging just slightly into his back.

It seemed to have given Bucky ideas, though, because the next time it was an intentional roll of hips and grind of aching arousals. Steve didn’t bother trying to stifle whatever sounds the friction might have drawn from him. Not that he was entirely confident that he would have been able to even had he tried. Instead, he found himself lost in the sensations of lips and hands and the whirlwind pleasure of the heated press of bodies. 

“Steve,” Bucky whispered against his lips, his hand skating down his chest to hook his fingers around the waistband of the thin pants he had put on Steve the night before. “Can I?”

Steve immediately nodded his consent and almost regretted it just as quickly when it caused Bucky to pull away from him. Bucky sat upright between his legs and hooked both sets of mismatched fingers into his waistband and tugged gently until Steve lifted his hips to assist in the removal. As soon as the pants were tossed over the edge of the bed, Bucky stretched back over him, recapturing Steve’s lips in a heated, insistent kiss. 

Steve’s hands dropped to help when Bucky started shifting somewhat awkwardly as he worked his own sleep pants over his hips and down while refusing to release his claim on Steve’s lips. Bucky kicked the offending material away and settled fully over Steve once again. They shivered with breath coming shortly when so much skin pressed together. Bucky rolled his hips against Steve again, almost experimentally and they groaned lowly at the sensation without any material between their aching cocks, nothing to dampen the sensation. He fell automatically back into a slow and easy rhythm that was more perfect than anything Steve’s imagination could have come up with.

It was so, so very different from anything he had experienced before, with Bucky or otherwise, that Steve quickly felt himself becoming overwhelmed. The decades old feelings flooding to the surface and the longing that thrummed steadily through his veins for as long as he could remember saturated his brain combining with the steady rush of pleasure and heat. He didn’t realize that he had begun trembling, or how breathy and shaky the sounds had become until Bucky slowly withdrew from the kiss, pulling his head back just far enough that he could focus clearly on Steve’s face.

“You okay, Stevie?” He asked in a whisper that was as shaky as Steve felt.

Steve nodded, biting his lip to try to muffle the groan when Bucky ground down against him again. “Yeah,” he panted, meeting Bucky’s eye as best he could. “Buck…”

Steve couldn’t be surprised when Bucky read whatever was on his expression clearly and his own softened in affection and understanding. He dipped down again to rest his forehead against Steve’s and spoke softly just over his lips, “I know, doll, I know.”

“A l-long time coming,” Steve nodded with a shaky smile. Bucky worked his hand between them and wrapped firmly around both of their cocks as he braced himself with his left arm. Steve felt his eyes roll at the increased sensation despite his best efforts to keep focused on the man above him. Pleasure spiraled higher and higher and Steve knew that the groans and whimpers escaping him were doing the same.

“C’mon, Stevie,” Bucky said, voice wrecked and pleading. Steve crumbled then, fingers digging slightly into Bucky’s back as he arched up into him, spending completely between them with a cry. He could vaguely hear Bucky’s gasped cursing and the low groan as the slide of his hand and the roll of his hips against Steve’s stuttered and then stilled. 

Bucky didn’t wait for their breathing to calm, for the aftershocks to settle, before dipping forward kissing him again. Their heaving chests and still-trembling bodies pressed together as much as they could manage. Steve’s hands stilled from their exploration and wrapped comfortably around Bucky’s waist, holding him as close as he could manage, more pleased than anything when Bucky let his weight settle more fully on top of him. It hurt. His healing ribs protested. But Steve couldn’t bring himself to care. It was so very worth it.

Even more so than they had been before, the kisses they shared were slow and lingering. More intimate and knowing than exploratory and new, even though it was still so very new. Steve could taste the tentative emotions that they had yet to actually speak in the way Bucky’s lips and tongue curled pleasantly against his own. It gave him cautiously blooming hope that, just maybe, this was real. Finally, finally real. 

Slowly, Bucky ended the kiss, not breaking it but drawing it to a slow, sweet end with lazy, lingering kisses before pulling back entirely. Steve blinked his eyes open again to look up at him and felt his heart squeeze and melt at the soft affection he could see there. It wasn’t entirely uncommon anymore, they had grown undeniably closer and more affectionate in general in the months since they moved into the house. But it was...different, lying in bed, pressed together so intimately and exchanging slow, sweet kisses like they were. It made Steve hopeful if not even more determined to leave it all, and therefore himself, firmly in Bucky’s hands.

It was different too, when they finally climbed out of bed. It didn’t feel like they were falling back into what had become normal. He thought that, maybe, it could be a new normal for them to settle into. The soft touches and stolen kisses as they cleaned up and Bucky determinedly checked over his injuries. And continued as they dressed for the day. The brief kiss that stretched and lingered with clinging hands at the door, Queenie whining impatiently at their feet. 

Steve reluctantly broke the kiss, somewhat surprised in how heavy his breathing had become so quickly. He glanced down to find Queenie staring up at them pitifully and laughed softly, hearing Bucky do the same. He met Bucky’s gaze again and smiled, “We’ll be back soon. We can...talk? At breakfast?”

“Yeah Stevie,” Bucky agreed easily, reluctantly letting his hands drop from where they had been holding firmly at Steve’s waist. “Go have fun.”

“You could come with us,” Steve suggested, feeling the intense urge to keep Bucky close.

Bucky considered the offer and then shook his head with a small grin, “Think if I went Queenie might not get the good run she needs and I don’t want to pick up more pieces of chewed up shoes.”

Steve laughed and crouched slightly to ruffle Queenie’s fur. She did have a bad habit of taking her excess energy out on poor unsuspecting shoes, they had learned that the hard way. “Okay,” he agreed. “We’ll...we’ll be back soon then.” Bucky nodded and kissed him again, they grinned into the affection when it began to stretch and linger longer than what was meant to be something brief. “Okay,” Steve laughed. “Going now.”

Bucky stepped backwards, making his way toward the kitchen to start breakfast and coffee as Steve smiled again and urged Queenie and himself out the door before he got distracted yet again. He took off at a jog, pointedly ignoring lingering aches, as soon as the door closed behind him, Queenie’s excited yip on his heels as they ducked through the trees and let the games begin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anyone else thinking " _finally_ " ?
> 
> See you next week for the finale!


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So, on the surface, very little changed. Steve liked to think that, perhaps, that was indicative that maybe they had already been here all along, just waiting for their minds to catch up to the fact. It was comforting though, to know that acknowledging their feelings, long standing as they were, didn’t have to change the dynamics that they had worked so hard to rebuild and reclaim.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahhh! We did it! Here is the final chapter of my (Not Another) Stucky Big Bang submission fic. It has been a long, wild ride bringing it together and I really hope that you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed collaborating and putting it together.
> 
> Another huge shout out to VelvetJinx for the absolutely gorgeous artwork and banner. You are outstanding and it has been amazing to work with you <3.
> 
> Big thanks again, also, to hazel_b for running beta on this. I know it was a slightly heavy undertaking but I am very, very grateful for your help!
> 
> Anyway, here is the final chapter and I truly hope that you've enjoyed the little journey! Have a great weekend!

In the weeks that followed Steve’s mission and the roundabout confession of feelings, things really didn’t change a whole lot. The routine that Steve and Bucky had slowly cobbled together held fast. Steve took off with Queenie in the mornings and did his best to come up with new ideas to keep the energetic dog interested in their runs. Games that worked her smart brain and helped to expend the extra energy that might turn destructive if left alone. Bucky occasionally joined them but more often than not he was content to stay behind and start breakfast while picking up one of his growing list of projects. 

The battered composition notebook that had originally been used to plan out the massive undertaking that was a whole-home renovation had been traded out for a new one. The new notebook seemed to be Bucky’s constant companion as much as Steve and Queenie were. While he still updated the old notebook as various tasks around the house were completed, the new book seemed to be dedicated to the additional projects that Bucky had picked up as the renovation drew to an end. 

They still studied and caught up on things they had missed. They still watched movies and had meals together, side by side. The comfortable contact that had become normal hadn’t really changed either except perhaps most of the hesitation seemed to have been eased. Most nights, they still split off to their own respective rooms at the end of the night even if they ended up together in one or the other by morning each time that they did. And not only due to nightmares but simply out of missing the other’s warm presence that often seemed to help keep those nightmares at bay. 

At Bucky’s request, Steve helped to maintain the shorter hair. He couldn’t deny that he was thrilled that, for the most part, Bucky forwent the various products that Steve had brought home after a trip to town. He didn’t let himself shy away from admiring the soft curls or Bucky in general anymore. He loved that he didn’t have to. 

So, on the surface, very little changed. Steve liked to think that, perhaps, that was indicative that maybe they had already been here all along, just waiting for their minds to catch up to the fact. It was comforting though, to know that acknowledging their feelings, long standing as they were, didn’t have to change the dynamics that they had worked so hard to rebuild and reclaim. 

All of that was wonderful, perfect even. Unfortunately, though, his distraction of wandering so far off into his thoughts was to his own detriment. Steve barely managed to bite back the automatic, startled yelp that threatened to escape when Queenie darted forward, nipping playfully and shoving her slight body weight against him when he attempted to overcorrect. She yipped happily, darting away only to circle around as he landed in the mud. Tail wagging eagerly, Queenie wasted no time climbing onto his back and sitting proudly. 

“Okay, Queenie, you got me,” he huffed, bringing a hand around to wipe at his face. In response, she stretched forward, huffing in his hair before lowering her muddy self to lay on him.

Steve stilled in disbelief and shook his head. He wasn’t sure he’d ever met a dog quite like her before. He laughed, planting his hands and toes against the soggy ground and moved easily into a push up, just quick enough that Queenie startled. She quickly jumped down from his back only to burrow eagerly under him, swiping at his face and neck with excited licks. 

Queenie playfully darted away when Steve balanced on one hand and reached for her with the other. She immediately bolted forward again with barks, nips and enthusiastic nudges when Steve made to stand, taking advantage of his slightly unsteady balance to knock him over again. This attempt, Steve could have easily dodged. Queenie wasn’t nearly big or strong enough to have overtaken him. Steve let himself fall backward anyway, laughing loudly as Queenie eagerly pounced and the morning run turned into a muddy, playful tussle.

By the time they broke apart, Queenie was panting heavily with exertion and even Steve was starting to feel just slightly winded. He affectionately patted her side and pushed off of the ground. Running a hand over his face to hopefully dislodge the worst of the caked on mud, Steve turned back toward the house smiling fondly when Queenie automatically fell into step beside him.

Steve was drawing near the treeline with Queenie panting happily, albeit tiredly, at his side when the sound of voices reached him. It wasn’t Bucky’s voice, or at least not  _ just _ Bucky’s voice that he heard. He frowned and picked up his pace, lengthening his strides to get back to the house more quickly. What he could hear of Bucky’s familiar tone didn’t  _ sound _ concerning but it was just them out here for the most part, and Steve wasn’t aware of expecting any company.

So it was a bit of surprise to say the least when he reached the clearing to find Sam, Natasha, and Clint talking amicably with Bucky. The latter was gesturing indicatively at something, though from his distance Steve couldn’t pinpoint exactly what. Despite her tiredness, Queenie bolted toward the small group, nearly barrelling over Bucky in her haste to get back to him. Steve approached at a more sedate pace, no longer concerned by the additional voices but definitely curious.

Bucky smiled that familiar smile as he drew even and greeted him with a soft kiss, uncaring about their small audience or the muddy mess that Steve happened to be at the moment. Steve was thankful that he had only just finished the morning run with Queenie, otherwise he was sure that his flush would be much more visible at the knowing smirks both Sam and Nat wore.

“You’re a mess, Rogers,” Natasha commented, scanning him critically.

“Yeah,” he chuckled, glancing down at himself and shrugging. “Think Queenie found some extra energy some where.”

“What did she do? Dig a hole out there and bury your ass?” Sam asked, laughing as he took in the muddied mess that Steve managed to be.

“Something like that,” Steve said with a smirk, it didn’t help that it was the first dry day they had had in the last week. There had been plenty of mud much to Queenie’s delight. “She’s really good at Tag and Hide and Seek. But it’s a good way to wear her out.”

“Looks like it wears out supersoldiers too.” Natasha smirked. 

“Nah.” Steve grinned, still feeling the rush of a good run. “I’m good. Gonna go get cleaned up though. Are you guys going to be sticking around a while or…?”

“Yeah we’ll be here,” Sam answered. “Go make yourself look a little less like something the woods chewed up and spit back out.”

Steve nodded in agreement and pressed a parting kiss to Bucky’s temple, smirking again when the man flushed slightly at the teasing snickers from their friends. He didn’t quite rush through his post-run routine but he didn’t dawdle either. He showered thoroughly, grimacing at the amount of mud and other debris rinsed from his hair and body. It had taken several passes with soap and shampoo before he finally felt clean. 

No wonder they all looked and acted the way that they had. 

He quickly finished his shower and towelled off, thankfully having remembered to bring his change of clothes into the bathroom with him. It was one thing to have to bolt to his room in nothing more than a towel when it was just Bucky, even before the change in their relationship. He wasn’t exactly looking to try to do the same with his team just downstairs. 

Steve was very nearly positive that he would never live it down.

He dressed quickly once he was dry, jeans and a comfortable t-shirt that made him flush just slightly when he realized it wasn’t one of his own, and opted to stay barefoot. A smile quirked across his lips as he gathered his dirty clothes off of the floor and tossed them into the basket in the corner, hearing Bucky’s grumbling about having to pick up forgotten clothing clearly in his mind.

Steve hesitated for a moment, one hand on the door handle and the other running over his jaw consideringly. He hadn’t shaved yesterday or the day before either. Three days of growth, at least since the serum, was thick enough to almost count as a beard rather than just a shadow or scruff. He scratched at it and let his fingers run over the heavy growth thoughtfully. 

Without giving himself another moment to second-guess himself, Steve turned the doorknob and pushed out of the bathroom. When he got down the stairs, Bucky and everyone else had settled in what had somehow become their usual spots in the living room. Tony had showed up at some point, sitting to Bucky’s right. Natasha was perched on the arm of the couch, an empty space--Steve’s spot--left between her and Bucky. Sam and Clint had taken over the armchairs. Clint near Tony and Sam had nudged his chair to be just slightly closer to the couch.

“Already got your coffee, Steve,” Bucky called before Steve could detour to the kitchen.

Steve smiled, making his way to the living room. He plopped unceremoniously into the space left open for him, grinning when both Bucky and Natasha shoved at his shoulders in response to the jostling. And then Natasha’s eyes narrowed sharply and she studied him intently for a moment. 

“What?” he frowned.

She smirked and scratched her fingernails lightly over his cheek and jaw. “I like it. Suits you.”

“Thanks Tash,” he said with a small smile, her approval loosening some of the self-consciousness that had lingered. 

She leaned forward from her spot on the arm of the couch beside him and kissed his cheek softly. Natasha tilted her head ever so slightly until her lips were just over his ear. He could feel her smirk and could hear the teasing, knowing tone when she spoke. “I’m not the only one liking it, Rogers. You’ll keep it if you know what’s good for you.”

Steve could feel his ears and cheeks heat even as he stole a subtle glance around the living room. Bucky ducked his gaze down to his coffee mug as soon as Steve had looked in his direction. When he noticed the slightly pinkened tinge to Bucky’s cheeks, Steve felt a rush of smugness wash over him. 

Bucky noticed because Bucky had always been the first to notice when Steve was feeling a little more smug than was necessary. He snorted and rolled his eyes but surprisingly didn’t call him on it. Instead, his arm slipped under Steve’s and laced their fingers together affectionately. Smugness gave way for warm fondness and Steve lifted their hands and pressed his lips to the cool metal of Bucky’s fingers.

Surprisingly, the others stuck around for the majority of the day. And maybe he shouldn’t be, but Steve was amazed at how easy it was. Having them here to just hangout and enjoy time together. Though Tony did excuse himself a few times to handle phone calls and Steve saw him fiddling with a couple different projects. Bucky had only needed to slip off once throughout the visit.

And then Clint jolted out of his chair, calling over his shoulder that he would be right back. Steve raised a questioning brow, glancing between Sam and Natasha. They both just smirked and shrugged their shoulders. Steve didn’t believe for a minute that they didn’t know.

It was just moments later that Clint was barrelling back into the house, arms laden down with several boxes of board and card games. Steve grinned, snatching up the remote for the tv and setting the first movie he came across to play and turned the volume low enough to act as background noise without being overly distracting.

Tony and Bucky set to raiding the kitchen for various snacks and drinks suitable for an Avengers game night while Clint dumped the pile of games onto the large dining table. Steve had to admit that he hadn’t consciously taken this into consideration when they had bought the table, but it was perfect for it. 

Even more perfect, though, was Bucky sitting next to him throughout the night, occasionally leaning into his shoulder. Grinning and laughing freely. Throwing out snark and banter just as easily as the rest of them were. Queenie snoozed under the table and they had to chase the cats off of the table top more than once. But god, Steve was certain there was absolutely nothing more beautiful than a happy Bucky.

He lost three separate games solely due to his distraction. It was absolutely worth it.

* * *

  
  
Steve opened the front door, letting Queenie precede him into the house. She darted immediately to her water dish and began lapping eagerly at the water. It had been a good run, further and longer than they had done to date. While it had been a lot of fun, he knew that the poor pup was likely to finish the water in her bowl and then curl up on her pillow or possibly on the couch and take a nice long nap. He smiled fondly as he dug a water bottle from the refrigerator and twisted the cap open before he even got the door all the way closed again. 

He eyed the tray of seed starting pods carefully placed near the kitchen windows, knowing that they were all over the house as well. Steve couldn’t quite tell if he was pleased or frustrated by the trays and trays of seed pods that were spread throughout the house, overtaking nearly every window space in the house as spring drew nearer. 

On one hand it was nice to have the greenery inside and even better to see Bucky so pleased. To see him so focused on learning as much as he could and working hard to put together the garden than they had spent the last year talking about. Steve absently wondered if he shouldn’t look into plans to build Bucky a greenhouse so he could have his plants year round. Steve had already been searching for supplies to build it but was holding off until it was slightly less muddy outside before he attempted to get any of it. Plus he would have to figure out how to get Nat to distract Bucky long enough for him to head back into town to pick it all up.

On the other hand, however, they were overtaking almost  _ every window space in the house. _ And half of them had already had to be replanted due to the curiosity of the no longer tiny kittens living in their home--another indication that a greenhouse might be a welcomed idea. He had already spent several mornings following his run with Queenie outside helping Bucky to turn the soil of the large plot that he had chosen to plant the garden.

Bucky had spent much of their first winter at the house researching and reading up on planting and gardening. Though it wasn’t until their second spring that he had finally gotten the opportunity to actually start the garden. They had started work on a small barn the summer of that same year. Steve had been pleasantly surprised on how completely he had taken to the idea. 

He had to admit though, that he had been decidedly less pleased when Bucky had snuck a young catnip plant into his studio. He wasn’t quite sure if having to bathe paint-covered, unhappy cats with fully-intact claws was better or worse than having to clean up the chaos they caused by determinedly attempting to get to the plant. Bucky had oscillated between hysterically amused and bashfully guilty throughout the whole ordeal. 

Steve found that he couldn’t really be too entirely irritated, not when it was all fixable and it made Bucky laugh like  _ that. _

Plus, he had gotten Bucky back by hiding Queenie's favorite chewy in their bed while Bucky was sleeping in. Queenie had played her part perfectly, pouncing onto the bed with full-puppy energy and trying to dig it out, stepping and pouncing on Bucky’s no-longer-sleeping form all the while. The indignant squawk that Bucky had emitted when he first awoke to the rough treatment was enough to have Steve hugging his side with the force of his laughter.

At least they hadn’t had to try bathing Queenie after. Not that she would have minded, Steve wasn’t sure he had ever witnessed a dog get so much joy out of water as Queenie did. She didn’t play in her water dish but any other standing water seemed to be fair game. And usually resulted in whoever was near her being as fully drenched as she was by the end. Somehow, that always seemed to be Steve, much to Bucky’s amusement.

Steve smiled as he took in the changes, some small and subtle, some larger, that had come together over the last few years. The initial renovation had laid the groundwork for turning the house into their home but living in it is what had truly made the difference. 

They had changed here too, maybe as much as the house itself had. Both he and Bucky had healed, settled back into their own skins. Learned themselves and each other in ways they hadn’t gotten the opportunity before. They still had nightmares and demons that made for bad days and devastating nights. Steve knew that those were unlikely to ever go away entirely. But they were fewer than they were, and that was worthwhile progress as far as he was concerned. 

The art on the walls was different. It was always different. Bucky had settled into a routine of changing them out every so often, pestering Steve until he agreed to make something new. The wooden clock on the wall was handmade. Another artistic avenue that Steve had eventually allowed himself the time to explore, and had fallen in love with as surely as Bucky had the garden. 

Steve still responded to calls when the occasion required it, he hadn’t been able to bring himself to put down the shield entirely. As it was, he had the best of both worlds in his opinion. His team was out at the house often too. Usually a couple of times a month, sometimes en mass and sometimes individually, depending on how schedules fell. 

Curious to let his mind wander the rest of the house, Steve turned to head to the living room only to jolt when he found Bucky suddenly standing right in front of him. Steve had long since grown used to not always being able to hear Bucky’s movements but that didn’t mean it wasn’t startling when the man popped up behind him like that. “Jesus, Buck,” he huffed. “Warn a guy.”

“Where’s the fun in that?” Bucky smirked, stepping in closer to crowd Steve back against the refrigerator. Steve might have retorted something in return, hopefully something suitably witty, but any attempts were cut short by Bucky’s lips pressing firmly against his own. Mismatched hands skated over the damp material covering his torso as Steve shivered and melted automatically into the kiss, opening to the sweeping pressure of Bucky’s tongue. He groaned when Bucky shifted closer, pressing their bodies more firmly together.

“Do you know how many times,” Bucky whispered between kisses, “you came back from your runs like this, all flushed and so goddamned pretty, and all I could think about is  _ this? _ Only so many ways to distract myself when you’re the most distracting thing there is.”

“Could’ve,” Steve said, breath heaving from the combination of his run and just purely Bucky. “Could’ve, I wouldn’a minded. Nothing stopping you now.”

Bucky hummed, diving back into the kiss, his hands dragging down from Steve’s waist to his hips and diverting to squeeze possessively at the muscles of his ass and using the grip to grind their pelvises, drawing a low groan from Steve. Without breaking the kiss, Bucky crouched just enough to hook his hands under his thighs and lifted until Steve automatically wrapped his legs around his waist. Steve felt a thrill at being moved so easily, despite his bulk. 

Neither paid attention to the open water bottle dropped absently to the floor--Queenie or the cats would likely clean it up before they got back to it--as Bucky pulled away from the refrigerator and made his way blindly toward the stairs. He took the steps easily, faltering only once when Steve had rocked automatically against him.

Bucky wasn’t gentle or careful in pressing Steve into the bed--it was once Steve’s room, but that too had changed--crowding Steve just as fully into the bed as he had the refrigerator to begin with. Not that Steve minded in the least. Bucky tore away from the kiss as soon as they landed, drawing his lip down over Steve’s throat, interspersing the kisses with sharp nips and soothing laves of his tongue. 

Later, they both might be a little annoyed with themselves over the tattered remains of clothing scattered on the floor. At the moment though, each layer of fabric was in the way of hands on flesh and neither could be bothered with moving away long enough to remove them the proper way. 

It was a small sacrifice and, like everything else, well worth it.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for stopping by!


End file.
